The Geographer's Library

Jon Fasman
anyway. Pls put them on my desk when finished. Good luck with the music
teacher. Remember: life is for the living. See you tomorrow. AR.”
Beneath the seal was the New Kendal police report of Vivepananda
Sunathipala’s death. The date and time next to the signature showed that it
had been filed at 10:03 the previous night; the time stamp in the top right
corner showed that it had been faxed to Art at 11:47 this morning. I wondered
who he knew on the New Kendal police force. The report said that
the Panda had been hit by a late-model car; either two- or four-door; painted
black, gray, dark blue, or purple; with one or more occupants, either male or
female. Five witnesses saw five different cars with five different drivers. Two
paramedics saw one dead coroner in the street. All agreed that the car did
not stop—barely even slowed—after running him down.
The second unexplained death that had crossed my path in the past few
days: two more than in my previous twenty-three years total. I linked Pühapäev
and the Panda for no reason other than circumstance, and then I wondered
whether there was, in fact, some connection between their deaths. It was certainly
strange that the one man in Connecticut to get an intimate look at the
dead man would himself be killed. But would anyone else see it as strange, or as
just two random deaths that my work connected, however tenuously?
A Lieutenant Haynes Johnson had signed the report, and I called him to
see whether he had anything else to add. When I told him I was calling from a
newspaper, though, he transferred me to the public affairs officer, who said
that “information regarding an ongoing investigation, whether material or
immaterial to said investigation, is not parceled out to the public until such
time as the authorities can ascertain that having such information in the public
domain would be beneficial to the end of apprehending the suspect or
suspects.” A truly astronomical syllable-to-content ratio; I thanked him, hung
up the phone, put the report on Art’s desk with a note (“AR: Done as
ordered—many thanks. Hope you, Donna, and the Panda’s family are as well
as can be. PT”), and headed out into the rain to interview the music teacher.
as i turned left onto Orchard Street, narrowly missing the branches
that hung close on either side of the street, Allen Olafsson was heading the
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