I’m amazed by myself. But not in a good way. In recent years, I’ve come to realize how little I know about the world. Yes, a kind reader would interrupt me now and tell me that it’s just age doing its work, that it shows signs of great wisdom to see one’s fallacies and shortcomings. 

To which I would say, “thank you”, because even if I’m not always especially kind to myself, I do try to be kind to others. 

Unfortunately for me, such encouraging words never last long because I then turn around and talk to Son, a walking Wikipedia if I ever knew one. And should there be a page that needs updating, or has missing links, Daughter will surely patch things up with her knowledge. 

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Like many, if not all other kids in the world, I, too, once ran a detective agency. It was a very small, no-name – literally – agency, based out of a small, second-floor room in a Helsinki suburb. All I had was a desk. I didn’t even have a chair for my partner. 

Then again, my partner was our dog. And like all proper detectives, I detested sitting at a desk anyway, so I spent most of my time out in the field, looking for cases. 

The chances of a damsel in distress walking up the stairs and into our apartment were slim anyway. 

Probably needless to say, but my detective agency didn’t have any cases per se, but I did spend many an afternoon shadowing people, and even more time shaking off bad guys I suspected were shadowing me. Now, I am sorry to say, my agency has laid dormant for many years. 

Until last week. 

Call it a hunch, call it intuition, call it whatever you want, but as I drove out car onto the ferry to Finland, I felt a familiar, funny feeling in my stomach. Something was up. 

“Something’s up, Riku,” I muttered, out of habit. (It was, and is, something of a catchphrase of mine). 

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