The Year of the Hare - Arto Paasilinna [11]
“I’ll have to ask Aarno.”
She went inside. The hare was hungry and started nibbling the plants in the garden. Vatanen stopped it, and finally picked it up in his arms.
A man appeared at the front door, small, middle-aged, slightly balding. “Beat it,” he said. “You can’t stay here. On your way, now.”
Vatanen felt a little vexed. He asked the man if he’d at least call for a taxi.
The man repeated his injunction to beat it, looking slightly scared now. Vatanen went over to the front door to clear things up with him, but the man slipped inside and slammed the door in his face. Funny ones, Vatanen thought.
“Call now; he’s completely nuts,” came the woman’s voice through the window.
Vatanen assumed they were phoning for a taxi.
“Hello, Laurila speaking. Get down here fast, quick as you can. He’s at the door, tried to break in, completely crazy. Got a hare with him.”
The call ended. Vatanen tried the front door: locked. The rain was coming down. An angry face appeared at the window, yelling, “Stop beating on the door—I’ve got a weapon.”
Vatanen went and sat on the garden swing, which had an awning. The woman called from the window, “Don’t you try to get in!”
After a while a black police car turned into the drive. Two uniformed constables emerged from the car and approached Vatanen. The people of the house now appeared at their door, pointing at Vatanen and saying: “Take him away! He’s the one.”
“Okay,” the constables said. “What’ve you been up to?”
“I asked them to call for a taxi, but they’ve called for you instead.”
“And am I right in thinking you’ve got a hare with you?”
Vatanen opened the lid of the basket; the hare had just crept into it, out of the rain. The hare peered nervously out of the basket, looking somehow guilty.
The constables gave each other a look, nodding, and one of them said: “Okay, sir; better come along with us. Hand over that basket.”
6
The District Superintendent
The police sat in front, with the hare. Vatanen was in the back, alone. At first they traveled in silence, but just before they reached the village, the constable holding the basket said, “Do you mind if I have a look?”
“Not at all, but don’t lift him up by the ears.”
The constable opened the basket and looked at the hare, which stretched its head over the top. The constable at the wheel craned around to look. He downshifted and slowed up to see better.
“This year’s,” the driver said. “Could be a March hare, perhaps?”
“Hardly. A week or two ago he was still very small. Probably born in June.”
“It’s a buck,” the other constable said.
They arrived at the village of Nilsiä, and the car drove into the police-station forecourt. The basket lid was put on again. Vatanen was taken inside.
The constable on duty was sitting there looking sleepy, his uniform shirt unbuttoned. He visibly perked up on seeing company.
Vatanen was offered a chair. He dug some cigarettes out of his pocket and offered them to the police. They glanced at each other first, and then each took a cigarette. The telephone rang; the duty officer answered it.
“Nilsiä Police Station, Heikkinen speaking. Ah. All right, we’ll pick him up tomorrow. Oh, quiet enough, just one case this evening.”
The duty officer regarded Vatanen as if estimating what sort of case this was.
“We had a call about him—Laurila, it was. Evidently attempted breaking and entering. Seems decent enough. Just brought in. Bye, now.”
He hung up.
“Social-welfare officer. We’ll have to go and pick up Hanninen tomorrow—otherwise he won’t move, apparently.”
The duty officer gave Vatanen an interrogative look. He arranged a few papers on his desk, and then summoned a more official tone.
“Yes ... this business. May I see your papers?”
Vatanen gave him his wallet. The officer took out the identification papers and a wad of banknotes. The others came over to see the contents. The duty officer studied the identification