Bergfors Family Forces

       If not for a big laundry day and mighty frost coming together, Maria Bergfors might have never found it out. As it was, damp air from all clothes hanging around the cabin condensed on the big hall window, revealing a word written with a finger on the glass. A bad word. It would fit in a public toilet, or a fence in an industrial area, or a house wall in mean streets, and not in a living room of a policewoman. Okay, she did use that word in her work when dealing with drunk woodcutters and butchers, but home was a safe, family-friendly zone! Maria sighed. Time to have a Talk about swear words with… With whom? Well, running home investigations grew into a habit already. Maria had always refused to use fingerprint techniques at home. Block letters did not betray the handwriting, and the house was full of suspects aged four to fifteen. Okay, the youngest one, Jani, could be ruled out. He couldn’t write yet, or draw such straight lines, or reach that high. Before proceeding to the other six suspects, Maria destroyed the evidence but took a photo of it (phones make photos! The ways of progress… And thanks to colleagues for this birthday present!) Right now, only mid-boys were at home (and Jani, clinging to her leg). She started with Jukka, who was reading in his and Jussi’s walled nook. For his ten years, he was a very gentle, honest bookworm with his head in the clouds, not interested in swearing, teenage protests, all that stuff. She’d skip him too, but lately he had been really into folklore, scribbling mysterious signs on every surface. What if he thought that That word was a charm of sorts? Jukka confessed to drawing a ward against evil in all four corners of all windows and doors. And showed it. Those were small squares with loops at their corners. Absolutely safe. When asked about any words, Jukka said that Latin letters didn’t hold magical power, and he hadn’t found real shamanic runes in magazines and encyclopaedias yet. Maria shook Jani off her lap and went outdoors. Johannes and Johanna were playing in the backyard. That is, destroying an old giant cable reel serving as a garden table. They were full of beans, inquisitive, sharp-eyed, they were in school year two already and could write, and would be suspects number one (and two). Maria called Johanna aside to the porch. The girl had the shortest patience and could not deny her guilt for long—if she was really guilty. Under a scrutinising stare, after a long and heavy pause, she confessed to drawing unicorns on the wall behind her bed, elephant rears on the classroom window, and writing Pekka idiot on a step of the school back door. Nothing else. As for her twin, she reported he had been drawing all sorts of indecent things but only with a stick on the snow at a lawn near the bridge. Home windows? Nooo! Maria let her go. What else could she do? It’s an inevitable phase; she’d been through drawing on everything solid, too.It would be over like chickenpox. Jussi was sawing plywood figures in the barn. Maria didn’t suspect him; he was an exception to the vandalism rule, too rational and too proud of his rationalism. Still, she needed to check all versions. As expected, he snorted and said he was above those puny kindergarten tricks. Once again, she wondered where he inherited that attitude. It wasn’t like he had many such role models around. None, to be exact. But alright, one suspect less. Only the older boys remained now. Jonne returned home late, grinning ear to ear, all wet with snow, from foot to hood, trying to hide a tear in the sleeve. When interrogated about it by a cop (Maria herself), he said all was fine and great, he had been sleighing downhill with friends and met some bush. Maybe it was a tree? Maria asked. Maybe it was a snowmobile? Maria asked. Jonne went dumb. Silly kid. Trying to keep in secret something that half of the town knew already. It was a good moment to ask who had adorned the room window. “Me?” Jonne sounded exasperated. “But I’ve got the twins on hand! And you know them, I barely have time to write school assignments when I’m home! Also, if I wrote or said anything indecent, Johanna would report it to you in no time! Did she?” “No, my big bunny, she didn’t.” Maria reached out to hug him and ruffle his flaxen crew cut. “I believe you, but someone did it, so I must examine all versions. And, remembering myself at the age of fifteen…” Jonne, all shy and confused by any sign of his mother’s affection, fled to make the table ready for dinner. Okay, just one suspect was left, and a very probable one. And still missing. Maria didn’t worry. Hannu had a habit of wandering alone in the forests around the town till late. Indeed, he sneaked into the cabin after dinner and crouched in the kitchen to have a late, cold meal. Maria wanted to sneak on him, too, but it was difficult with Jani clinging to her leg and whining for an uppy. So, Hannu made a face but didn’t look startled or guilty as he roamed through the fridge. “Hannu, I know it’s difficult for you to deal with other children—“ “It’s not,” he mumbled through a sandwich. “I just don’t like it. Both children and adults.” “Alright, but you still shouldn’t write down attitude where your little siblings can see it.” With an angelic look, Hannu turned the electric pot on. “Mom, the little sibling in my charge does not read. The others are not in my charge, and even if they were, I can’t screen them from all town fences and walls where anything is written. Besides—“ “But not at home, Hannu!” Maria’s patience quivered a bit. “Home? Why home?” Now Hannu did seem perplexed. “In the main room. On the window.” “What? No. I was just going to say that I never bother writing my attitude down when I can merely think it.” Hannu winced and peeked around the corner into the said room. No, it wasn’t his doing, Maria thought; his gaze was aimed at the absolutely different side of the defiled window. But before Maria Bergfors got properly baffled, her service mobile phone rang, and she went to the big room, leaving Hannu to his late tea and sandwiches with solitude. It was Mrs. Hukka again. Rarely a month would pass without her complaints. Single, retired, excessively Christian, she had plenty of ideals about life and plenty of free time to bother authorities about reality not matching those ideals. Last time it had been schoolgirls with coloured hair strands early this week. What was it this time? Music, right. Loud pagan music. Cursing inwardly, Maria tried to drive home to indignant Mrs. Hukka that it was perfectly legal to listen to music in bars, that the Blue Moose was far enough from any residential areas and didn’t violate any sound level norms, and that pop rock like Leevi and the Leavings was quite innocent if you went deeper into it. Mrs. Hukka promised to go higher to the police superiors and hung up. Good riddance. Maria sent mental condolence to her superiors, Inspector Detective Tuinen and Superintendent Kaato. Then she froze. She was standing at the window facing the direction of the condemned Blue Moose bar, her right-hand finger felt cold and wet, and a couple of unsolicited words were adorning the glass dimmed by her breath. Oh. Feeling her cheeks blush, Maria hurried to wipe the blooper off with her sleeve.