Nothing but the Truth

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She’d heard that answer dozens of times before: No comment.

What a clown, thought Sergeant Anna Joutsamo. No comment, my ass. Not that it mattered. The police had already amassed enough evidence for a life sentence, with more on the way once Forensics finished up at the murder scene.

Esa Nyberg was sitting behind the table of a dreary interrogation room, dressed in police-issue green coveralls, his arms folded over his chest, his long hair in a tangled mess. His eyes seemed to stare into space. Not that there was much to see but pale gray walls. In addition to Nyberg and Sergeant Joutsamo, Mikko Kulta, a Helsinki VCU detective, sat at the table.

“Enough with the games,” said Joutsamo, in a tone that revealed her waning patience. She smoothed her jeans and straightened her dark hair with a flourish. “I understand you don’t want to talk about the case without a lawyer present, but I’m sure you can handle a few basic questions.”

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