The Year of the Hare Read Online Free PDF

the garden, hands black with soil: an older woman. A picture of his wife flashed through his mind. Something in this woman reminded him of her.
    “Good evening.”
    She rose from her crouch, gazed at the newcomer, and then at the wet hare, which was hopping at Vatanen’s feet.
    “My name’s Vatanen. I’ve just come from Kuopio, and I got out here by mistake. I should have gone on to Nilsiä. It’s raining quite a bit, as one might expect around here, I suppose.”
    The woman was still staring at the hare.
    “What on earth is that?”
    “Just a hare. From near Heinola. I adopted him as a sort of traveling companion—we’ve been doing the trip together.”
    “So what’s your business?” she asked suspiciously.
    “No special business, actually—I’m just touring around, visiting various places with the hare, passing the time ... and, as I said, I got off the bus, and I’m already getting tired. I suppose there’s no chance of your putting me up for the night?”
    “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
    T he 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