Blomkvist left the café when Susanne closed at 2:00 on Saturday afternoon. He had
spent the morning typing up his notes in his iBook. He walked to Konsum and
bought some food and cigarettes before he went home. He had discovered fried
sausage with potatoes and beets—a dish he had never been fond of but for some
reason it seemed perfectly suited to a cabin in the country.
At around 7:00 in the evening he stood by the kitchen window, thinking. Cecilia
Vanger had not called. He had run into her that afternoon when she was buying
bread at the café, but she had been lost in her own thoughts. It did not seem likely
that she would call this evening. He glanced at the little TV that he almost never
used. Instead he sat at the kitchen bench and opened a mystery by Sue Grafton.
Salander returned at the agreed-upon time to Bjurman’s apartment near Odenplan.
He let her in with a polite, welcoming smile.
“And how are you doing today, dear Lisbeth?”
She did not reply. He put an arm around her shoulder.
“I suppose it was a bit rough last time,” he said. “You looked a little subdued.”
She gave him a crooked smile and he felt a sudden pang of uncertainty. This girl is
not all there. I have to remember that. He wondered if she would come around.
“Shall we go into the bedroom?” Salander said.
On the other hand, she may be with it.... Today I’ll take it easy on her. Build up her
trust. He had already put out the handcuffs on the chest of drawers. It was not until
they reached the bed that Bjurman realised that something was amiss.
She was the one leading him to the bed, not the other way around. He stopped and
gave her a puzzled look when she pulled something out of her jacket pocket which
he thought was a mobile telephone. Then he saw her eyes.
“Say goodnight,” she said.