Unspoken

mention her crotch. And the blood that appeared every month, staining her panties and sheet when she bled through during the night. She despised her body.
    The fact that she had dark skin didn’t make things any better. She wanted to look like all the others. In her class there were only two others who were dark. They were twins, so at least they had each other. Two boys who had been adopted from Brazil. They were the school’s best soccer players, and they were very popular because they looked like Roberto Carlos, the famous Brazilian wingback. For them the color of their skin was an advantage. But not for her. She didn’t want to stand out.
    She longed to have friends, to have her very own best friend. Someone to confide in, to share her worries. In school no one paid any attention to her anymore. Both there and at home, she was always alone. At the same time she was fully aware that this was her own fault. When she started in the ninth grade, kids would sometimes ask her to join them after doing their homework. She always said no. Not because she didn’t want to, but because she had to rush home to walk Spot and take care of everything else that had to be done. Inviting a friend home was out of the question. The risk was too great that they would find a messy apartment reeking of smoke, with the blinds down and breakfast dishes still on the table. A depressed mother with a cigarette drooping from the corner of her mouth and a wineglass in her hand. No thanks, that wasn’t something she wanted to put herself through, or a friend, either. It would just make everyone talk. How embarrassing that would be. The last thing she needed was more problems.
    That was why Fanny was alone. The other kids got tired of asking her, and finally no one even bothered to talk to her. It was as though she didn’t even exist.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 18
    The hail that was ricocheting off the galvanized roof woke Detective Superintendent Anders Knutas at his home, which was a stone’s throw outside the ring wall in Visby.
    He climbed out of bed and shivered as his feet touched the cold floor. He fumbled wearily for his bathrobe and pulled up the blinds. He peered out in surprise. Hail in November was unusual. The garden looked like something straight out of an old black-and-white Bergman movie. The trees mournfully stretched out their bare branches toward the steel gray sky. The asphalt on the residential street was wet and cold. Off in the distance a woman in a dark blue coat was struggling to cross the street with a baby buggy. Her shoulders were hunched against the wind and the sharp beads of ice that were peppering the ground. Two rumpled-looking sparrows huddled together under the currant bushes, although the sparse branches offered little protection.
    Why should I get up at all? he thought as he crawled back under the warm covers. Lina had her back turned to him and seemed to be still asleep. He cuddled up next to her and kissed the back of her neck.
    The thought of Sunday breakfast with warm scones and coffee finally convinced them to get out of bed. The local radio station was playing oldies requests, and the cat was sitting in the window trying to catch the drops of water on the other side of the pane. It didn’t take long before the children came sauntering into the kitchen, still in their pajamas and nightgown. Nils and Petra were twins and had just turned twelve. They had Lina’s freckles and curly red hair but their father’s lanky build. They looked alike but were otherwise complete opposites. Petra had inherited her father’s calm disposition, and she loved fishing, golf, and spending time outdoors. Nils was hot-tempered with a bellowing laugh and a talent for mimicry. He was also crazy about movies and music, just like Lina.
    Knutas checked the thermometer outside the window. Thirty-six degrees. With a certain gloominess he noted that the crimson days of October were now gone. It was his favorite month: the crisp air, the leaves of the trees blazing with color ranging from ocher to purple, and the strong scent of earth and apples. Glittering bright red rowanberries, and the woods filled with autumn chanterelles. Blue sky. Not too hot and not too cold.
    Now October had been replaced with a dirty-gray November, which could hardly please anyone. The sun came up just after seven and went down before four. The days were going to get shorter and darker all the way until Christmas.
    No wonder so many people got depressed at