“The book says that most killers are men. But it’s also true that in the Vanger family
are several women who are real firebrands.”
“I’ve met Isabella.”
“She’s one of them. But there are others. Cecilia Vanger can be extremely caustic.
Have you met Sara Sjögren?”
Blomkvist shook his head.
“She’s the daughter of Sofia Vanger, one of Henrik’s cousins. In her case we’re
talking about a truly unpleasant and inconsiderate lady. But she was living in
Malmö, and as far as I could ascertain, she had no motive for killing the girl.”
“So she’s off the list.”
“The problem is that no matter how we twisted and turned things, we never came
up with a motive. That’s the important thing.”
“You put a vast amount of work into this case. Was there any lead you remember
not having followed up?”
Morell chuckled. “No. I’ve devoted an endless amount of time to this case, and I
can’t think of anything that I didn’t follow up to the bitter, fruitless end. Even after I
was promoted and moved away from Hedestad.”
“Moved away?”
“Yes, I’m not from Hedestad originally. I served there from 1963 until 1968. After
that I was promoted to superintendent and moved to the Gävle police department
for the rest of my career. But even in Gävle I went on digging into the case.”
“I don’t suppose that Henrik would ever let up.”
“That’s true, but that’s not the reason. The puzzle about Harriet still fascinates me to
this day. I mean...it’s like this: every police officer has his own unsolved mystery. I
remember from my days in Hedestad how older colleagues would talk in the
canteen about the case of Rebecka. There was one officer in particular, a man
named Torstensson—he’s been dead for years—who year after year kept returning
to that case. In his free time and when he was on holiday. Whenever there was a