“‘The sea hasn’t frozen yet, has it?’ the little queen said. ‘But what’s that over there? Another island? Shouldn’t we go there and have a look?’
“‘No, we shouldn’t,’ the lighthouse keeper replied. ‘For that, my little queen, is the island of the murderer.’
“‘I don’t believe that,’ the little queen said, shaking Mrs. Margaret so hard that her blue flowered dress flew up and down. ‘Mrs. Margaret is shaking her head, do you see? I want to go there and find out for myself who lives on that island.’
“The lighthouse keeper heaved a deep sigh and steered the ship toward the island. It was a tiny island, tinier than all the islands they had visited so far. On one side, somebody had erected a sign that read: ISLAND OF THE MURDERER.
“‘Huh!’ the little queen exclaimed. ‘Who writes signs like that? Stop! I want to go ashore!’
“‘Ashore?’ the lighthouse keeper, the rose girl, the blind white cat, and the asking man asked in a neat choir. Only the answering man answered, murmuring something about ‘seven times daily.’
“‘You can’t go ashore on an island where a murderer lives,’ the rose girl said.
“‘Oh yes, I can,’ the little queen said. ‘A queen with a diamond heart can go ashore on any island. Maybe the murderer doesn’t want to be a murderer anymore but, instead, someone else, something opposite, like … a savior, for example. He needs someone to tell him how he can change.’
“And with these words, she climbed over the rail and jumped onto the cliffs of the tiny island.
“‘Wait!’ the rose girl called and jumped after her. The lighthouse keeper, the asking man, and the answering man followed her. Only the blind white cat, licking her paws, stayed on deck, and the sea lion was nowhere to be found … in any of his forms.
“The little group began to wander over the tiny island. It wasn’t just the tiniest, it was also the barest island they had seen. There were no trees, no bushes, no grass—not even a house. But the murderer who lived there … where was the murderer? Where was he lurking?
“‘He is here,’ the little queen whispered after a while. ‘Very near. He can see us. I can feel his eyes on me. But he doesn’t want to talk to us. How can I help him turn into something different if he doesn’t show himself?’
“‘Let’s go,’ said the lighthouse keeper. ‘Let’s leave this creepy island before one of us is murdered.’
“‘No,’ the rose girl said. ‘No, I don’t think the murderer is here anymore. He must have left a long time ago. Or swam away.’
“‘But where is he then?’ the little queen whispered uncomfortably. ‘Maybe … maybe he is on board? Maybe he has been on board for a long time?’
“‘Where—on board what?’ the asking man asked.
“‘On the thirteenth of March,’ the answering man answered, though this answer didn’t fit the question, of course.
“‘The black ship,’ the little queen said doubtfully. ‘He’s already turned into someone else. We just don’t recognize him. Or … is he on board our own ship?’
“When she said this, everybody looked at each other: the lighthouse keeper looked at the rose girl, the rose girl looked at the asking man, and the asking man looked at the answering man. The answering man looked back to the ship, where the white cat was still grooming.
“When the green ship cast off a little later, distrust was creeping over the deck like an unwanted passenger who had come aboard at the tiny island. Maybe, each of them thought, one of them was a murderer. Maybe someone they had previously trusted was someone who murdered because he or she was born on an island with a sign saying ‘Island of the Murderer.’
“The waves looked like dark green honey. It must be the distrust. They were stuck in a sea of suspicion, hardly moving anymore. If things stayed like this, they would never reach the mainland.”
Abel fell silent, and Anna had to force herself to resurface from the honey ocean so that she could see where they were. They were standing in front of the café. But that wasn’t the reason Abel had brought the story to a halt. The reason was a figure approaching them along the harbor: a figure with his hands deep in the pockets of his jacket, now scratching his ear with the arm of his glasses.
“Knaake,” Abel said in a low voice. Anna nodded.
“Let’s go in,” Abel said.
“Why? You don’t want to see him?”
“I want to see what he does,” Abel answered. “Where he goes and how he behaves. Just … so … Come on.”
“Will you tell the fairy tale inside, and will there be hot chocolate, and can I have a piece of cake with it?” Micha asked as she raced up the stairs without waiting for answers. She was a little queen. Of course there would be hot chocolate and cake.
Anna didn’t think they would find a table, but they were lucky— there was a couple just leaving one next to the window overlooking the mouth of the river, and Micha snatched their spot like a cat would a mouse. The young man helped the young woman into a long black leather coat, and then he slipped on his own coat, which made the words cashmere and smooth pop into Anna’s head. He was wearing a gray silk scarf and his hair was red, nearly golden … then he turned and, of course … of course, it was Hennes. And, of course, the young woman in the black leather coat was Gitta.
“Seems like everyone’s here today,” Abel said in a low voice.
It was a weird situation: They looked at each other, two versus two, here versus there, this side versus the other.
“So, little lamb,” Gitta said finally, “here you go, have our table. Have you been over there? At the beach? You heard what happened, right? It was all over the news …”
Anna nodded slowly. “We haven’t been there … no. Have you?”
“Yeah,” Gitta said. “It was kinda creepy. I mean, that guy found the dead body, just this morning, and it had been there for a day or so … in our neighborhood, all hell’s broken loose, police driving by regularly … I actually started wondering if it might be a good idea to open up a snack bar, you know, for anyone who’s coming by to look … Hennes insisted on going down to the beach—he thought he’d find footprints that haven’t been trampled … the great bloodhound …”
She pressed her body, in a black leather coat, against him, and he tried to pull her away. “Come on, didn’t we want to …”
“He’s also good at finding footprints in the woods,” Gitta went on, winking at Anna. “I guess I’ll have to learn sooner or later … how to track. Maybe I’ll even take up hunting. Those blinds you hide in look pretty cozy to me …”
“Wait a sec,” Anna said. “That sounds like Bertil, not like Hennes. Hennes, do you hunt, too?”
Hennes rolled his eyes. He even looked charming when he was rolling his eyes. Hell.
“Come on, Gitta,” he repeated. “Let’s get going. Now.”
“The family von Biederitz has a hunting lodge out at Hanshagen, didn’t you know that?” Abel said. “They probably own the town, too.”
“No,” Anna said. “I didn’t know that.” She watched as Hennes pulled Gitta away by her arm, a little too possessively. Gitta in her black biker gear; Gitta, who despite her clothes could only afford an old scooter; Gitta with her hated, overly hygienic mother didn’t fit in with Hennes’s family any better than Abel did with Anna’s. Anna imagined Gitta sitting in a hunting blind in her leather coat, trying not to move … a majestic stag on the clearing in front of her … as she raises her gun, the leather jacket rustles, and the stag flees. Or maybe it chokes while laughing. Or Gitta sidles up to it instead, and propositions it …
“What are you laughing at?” Abel asked.
Anna shook her head. “Weird thoughts,” she answered. “It’s good to laugh.”
“I ordered three hot chocolates and a piece of cake, all by myself, without any help,” Micha said proudly. “I’m just telling you because you didn’t see me do it. And look! In here, it’s already springtime.”