“Nothing. This is the way it is—Erika is my best friend. She and I have been together
off and on for twenty years and will probably be, on and off, together for another
twenty. I hope so. But we’ve never been a couple and we never get in the way of
each other’s romances.”
“Is that what we have? A romance?”
“I don’t know what we have, but apparently we get along.”
“Where’s she going to sleep tonight?”
“We’ll find her a room somewhere. One of Henrik’s spare rooms. She won’t be
sleeping in my bed, anyway.”
Cecilia thought about this for a moment.
“I don’t know if I can handle this. You and she might function that way, but I don’t
know...I’ve never...” She shook her head. “I’m going back to my place. I have to
think about this for a while.”
“Cecilia, you asked me earlier and I told you about my relationship with Erika. Her
existence can’t be any great surprise to you.”
“That’s true. But as long as she was at a comfortable distance down in Stockholm I
could ignore her.”
Cecilia put on her jacket.
“This situation is ludicrous,” she said with a smile. “Come over for dinner tonight.
Bring Erika. I think I’m going to like her.”
Erika had already solved the problem of where to sleep. On previous occasions
when she had been up to Hedeby to visit Vanger she had stayed in one of his spare
rooms, and she asked him straight out if she could borrow the room again. Henrik
could scarcely conceal his delight, and he assured her that she was welcome at any
time.
With these formalities out of the way, Blomkvist and Berger went for a walk across
the bridge and sat on the terrace of Susanne’s Bridge Café just before closing time.