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165
Petri might be an experienced store detective, but the role
of father trumped the professional. It was a mistake to take
anyone into your life whom you’d start to care about.
“And the blonde? Is that your current girlfriend?”
“Milla? No. She works for Jansson. Sometimes picks up the
payments.”
“Do you ever hand things directly to Jansson?” “Tomorrow
it’s his turn to come again. But please don’t get the police
mixed up with this. I beg you—” Petri raised his clasped
hands over his head for a moment—“this is about my child!
Merja’s already lost one and VP is more or less gone. Needs
a new liver, but with what money?”
I faked a Santa’s ho-ho-ho. “Let the elevator move again
now. Back to the first floor. Don’t try to follow me. Leave a
message at Merja’s counter where and how you’re meeting
Jansson. How much does he still need?”
“Three thousand. Can I get up to press the code?” “No
tricks.”
“Who are you, really?” Petri asked when the elevator door
opened.
“I’m Santa Claus. You’d better believe in me.”