After breakfast he asked his research assistant to read through the police report. He
gave her all the photographs of the accident, as well as the long summary of
Vanger’s own investigations.
Blomkvist then drove to Frode’s house and asked him kindly to draw up an
agreement for Salander as a research assistant for the next month.
By the time he returned to the cottage, Salander had decamped to the garden and
was immersed in the police report. Blomkvist went in to heat up the coffee. He
watched her through the kitchen window. She seemed to be skimming, spending
no more than ten or fifteen seconds on each page. She turned the pages
mechanically, and Blomkvist was amazed at her lack of concentration; it made no
sense, since her own report was so meticulous. He took two cups of coffee and
joined her at the garden table.
“Your notes were done before you knew we were looking for a serial killer.”
“That’s true. I simply wrote down questions I wanted to ask Henrik, and some other
things. It was quite unstructured. Up until now I’ve really been struggling in the
dark, trying to write a story—a chapter in the autobiography of Henrik Vanger.”
“And now?”
“In the past all the investigations focused on Hedeby Island. Now I’m sure that the
story, the sequence of events that ended in her disappearance, started in Hedestad.
That shifts the perspective.”
Salander said: “It was amazing what you discovered with the pictures.”
Blomkvist was surprised. Salander did not seem the type to throw compliments
around, and he felt flattered. On the other hand—from a purely journalistic point of
view—it was quite an achievement.
“It’s your turn to fill in the details. How did it go with that picture you were chasing
up in Norsjö?”
“You mean you didn’t check the images in my computer?”
“There wasn’t time. I needed to read the résumés, your situation reports to
yourself.”