Salander awoke with a start from a dreamless slumber. She felt faintly sick. She did
not have to turn her head to know that Mimmi had left already for work, but her
scent still lingered in the stuffy air of the bedroom. Salander had drunk too many
beers the night before with the Evil Fingers at the Mill. Mimmi had turned up not
long before closing time and come home with her and into bed.
Salander—unlike Mimmi—had never thought of herself as a lesbian. She had never
brooded over whether she was straight, gay, or even bisexual. She did not give a
damn about labels, did not see that it was anyone else’s business whom she spent
her nights with. If she had to choose, she preferred guys—and they were in the
lead, statistically speaking. The only problem was finding a guy who was not a jerk
and one who was also good in bed; Mimmi was a sweet compromise, and she
turned Salander on. They had met in a beer tent at the Pride Festival a year ago,
and Mimmi was the only person that Salander had introduced to the Evil Fingers.
But it was still just a casual affair for both of them. It was nice lying close to Mimmi’s
warm, soft body, and Salander did not mind waking up with her and their having
breakfast together.
Her clock said it was 9:30, and she was wondering what could have woken her
when the doorbell rang again. She sat up in surprise. No-one had ever rung her
doorbell at this hour. Very few people rang her doorbell at all. She wrapped a sheet
around her and walked unsteadily to the hall to open the door. She stared straight
into the eyes of Mikael Blomkvist, felt panic race through her body, and took a step
back.
“Good morning, Fröken Salander,” he greeted her cheerfully. “It was a late night, I
see. Can I come in?”
Without waiting for an answer, he walked in, closing the door behind him. He
regarded with curiosity the pile of clothes on the hall floor and the rampart of bags
filled with newspapers; then he peered through the bedroom door while Salander’s
world started spinning in the wrong direction. How? What? Who? Blomkvist looked
at her bewilderment with amusement.
“I assumed that you would not have had breakfast yet, so I brought some filled
bagels with me. I got one with roast beef, one with turkey and Dijon mustard, and
one vegetarian with avocado, not knowing your preference.” He marched into her
kitchen and started rinsing her coffeemaker. “Where do you keep coffee?” he said.
Salander stood in the hall as if frozen until she heard the water running out of the
tap. She took three quick strides.