The Year of the Hare - Arto Paasilinna [13]
“I could take it home for the night,” one of the younger constables offered.
But Vatanen had an objection: “Only if you’re trained in the management of wild hares and possess an appropriate hutch. In addition, the animal definitely requires special foods—meadow vetchling, and many other special herbs. Otherwise it could die of food poisoning. If anything happened to the hare, you’d be liable, and animals of this quality are costly.”
The hare was following the interchange; it appeared to nod during Vatanen’s words.
“A fine mess,” the duty officer exploded. “You’d better get out of here. Come back tomorrow, for interrogation. Ten sharp. And take that hare with you.”
“Hold on,” the young constables warned. “What’ll Laurila say when he hears that? And what do we know about this fellow? Look at that money. Yet he hasn’t even got a car. Where’s he from? Is he really Vatanen, in fact?”
“Yes ... Hm. Don’t go yet. Have to think. Bit of a bind—the super’s out fishing. Anyone got a cig?”
Vatanen offered more cigarettes. Again they smoked. Nothing was said for quite a while.
Finally, the younger constable said to Vatanen: “Don’t get us wrong. We’ve got nothing against you personally, you know, nothing at all, but we have our regulations—for ourselves, too, us police. Without that hare, for example, everything’d be so much simpler. Look at it from our point of view. For all we know, you might be a murderer. Could have bumped someone off before you left Helsinki ... gone out of your mind, perhaps, wandering aimlessly around here. In fact, you are wandering aimlessly—you might be a danger to the whole community.”
“Let’s not overdo it,” the duty officer said. “No one’s talking about murder.”
“But we could be, in theory. I don’t say we are, but we could easily be.”
“Just as easily, I could be a murderer myself,” the duty officer snorted. He stubbed out his cigarette, gave the hare an angry stare, and then: “Let’s do it this way. Stay here regardless—in this duty room if you like—till I can call up the superintendent. That’ll be in a couple of hours or so. Then we’ll get it all straightened out. Meanwhile, take a nap on that bunk, if you’re tired. We can have some coffee if you want. What’s all the hurry? How does that sound?”
Vatanen accepted the offer.
The hare, in its basket, was put on a night-duty bed at the back of the room. Vatanen asked if he could have a look at the sort of cell accommodations they had at Nilsiä Police Station. The duty officer willingly got up to show him. The whole company trooped to the lockup, and the duty officer opened one of the doors and explained: “These are nothing special—mostly we only get drunks. We do get people from Tahkovuori sometimes. We’ve had some quite important people inside, too.”
There were two adjoining cells: modest rooms. The windows, frosted wired glass, had no bars. Screwed to the wall there was a tubular bed, a lidless toilet, and a chair, also fastened immovably. A lamp without a lampshade dangled from the ceiling.
“They generally smash that lamp in their rage, and so they get to sit in the dark. Should put a steel frame around it—the tallest can jump that high.”
The policemen made some coffee. Vatanen went to lie down on the duty-room bed. The officers chatted about Vatanen’s case in subdued tones, thinking he was asleep. He overheard the men’s assessment of Laurila. All in all, they thought it a pretty unusual case: best to proceed cautiously at the start. Vatanen dozed off.
Later, about ten, the duty officer woke Vatanen. The superintendent had been contacted and was on his way. Vatanen rubbed his eyes, looked at the basket by his feet, and saw it was empty.
“The boys are out in the forecourt with it. We saw it didn’t run away, and we thought it might be hungry, so we procured some of that meadow vetchling you mentioned. Quite a meal it’s had, in fact.”
The younger constables re-entered with the hare. They let it go hopping around the floor, leaving little pellets everywhere. The officers kicked the droppings into the corners but, finding that not