A Norwegian Named Sigerson
The winter had closed in early on Mikkeli, a steady stream of snow falling, or rather floating almost horizontally, in the Leipurinkatu. My friend and colleague Hannu Viitanen was most annoyed at this, as he had been contemplating going back to our village for the rest I keep nagging him about.
My name is Ville. Just Ville.
On the third day of the snowstorm, Hannu became even more morose than usual, as none of his usual diversions were open to him, and there had been a remarkable lull in the criminal element of Mikkeli. “What a shame,” he often lamented, “that such a boon to the citizenry means desolation to me!”
It was around mid-afternoon when the bell finally rang, announcing that some hardy soul had braved the storm to call upon us. The change in Hannu was as remarkable as it was instant. Gone was the ever-bleaker melancholy that had held sway over him, and in its place was the Vital Viitanen of old, ready for whatever may come.
Of course, he hid his eagerness for a case behind the cloak of his wonted misanthropy, but I could see it sparkling in his eyes as I went to show our visitor in.
The face that greeted me when I opened the door was a familiar one. “Why, if it isn’t Junnu Kuitunen!”
“Hallo, Ville,” Junnu said. Then his normally cheerful face drooped. “Is Hannu... occupied? I need his assistance on a matter of some urgency.”
“I’m sure he will be able to accommodate you.” So saying, I led Junnu into the sitting room.
Hannu looked at Junnu askance from where he sprawled in his favorite chair. “There’s been a murder in this weather?”
Junnu started, as he hadn’t yet said a word to Hannu. “How on Earth--”
“Immaterial,” Hannu cut Junnu off. “What I need from you are all the facts you can give me about this untoward occurrence.”
Junnu took a deep breath to steady himself. “Well, as you are aware, my interests require that I come to Mikkeli for brief periods throughout the year.” At Hannu’s nod, he continued, “On this last trip, I met several times with a Norwegian colleague named Sigerson. We were to meet again yesterday morning, but he didn’t show up, so I went to his lodgings directly after breakfasting.”
“And you found him dead,” Hannu finished for Junnu when that worthy paused in his retelling. “He had been brutally, shockingly murdered, had he not?”
Junnu nodded. “It was the most horrible thing I’d ever seen.”
“But there was something else,” Hannu prompted.
Junnu’s mouth worked for a moment before he could bring himself to continue. “On his desk was a note--a drawing, rather, of the old Hannunvaakuna symbol, with yesterday’s date written below. Naturally, I left everything to the police, but when I returned to my offices, I found--this!”
He thrust a piece of paper at Hannu, who barely glanced at it before saying, “And you have no idea why the killer has set his sights on you?”
“None whatsoever,” Junnu affirmed. “My only dealings with Sigerson were matters of business, and never such things as might provoke someone to murder!”
“Nevertheless, I think it would be best if you remained here for the present,” Hannu said. “Ville and I shall begin our investigation at once, and there’s every likelihood that the matter will be cleared up presently.”
As we left, Hannu murmured to me, “There’s a doomed man if ever I saw one...”
