heGirlwiththeDragonTattoo
LarssonStieg
PROLOGUE
AFridayinNovember
Ithappenedeveryyear,wasalmostaritual.Andthiswashiseighty-secondbirthday.When,asusual,theflowerwasdelivered,hetookoffthewrappingpaperandthenpickedupthetelephoocallDetectiveSuperintendentMorellwho,whenheretired,hadmovedtoLakeSiljaninDalarna.Theywerenotonlythesameage,theyhadbeenbornonthesameday—whichwassomethingofanironyunderthecircumstances.Theoldpolicemanwassittingwithhiscoffee,waiting,expectingthecall.
“Itarrived.”
“Whatisitthisyear?”
“Idon’tknowwhatkinditis.I’llhavetogetsomeootellmewhatitis.It’swhite.”
“Noletter,Isuppose.”
“Justtheflower.Theframeisthesamekindaslastyear.Oneofthosedo-it-yourselfones.”
“Postmark?”
“Stockholm.”
“Handwriting?”
“Sameasalways,allincapitals.Upright,neatlettering.”
Withthat,thesubjectwasexhausted,andnotanotherwordwasexchangedforalmostaminute.Theretiredpolicemanleanedbackinhiskitchenchairanddrewonhispipe.Heknewhewasnolongerexpectedtoeupwithapithymentoranysharpquestionwhichwouldshedanewlightonthecase.Thosedayshadlongsincepassed,andtheexchangebetweenthetwomenseemedlikearitualattachingtoamysterywhichno-oneelseinthewholeworldhadtheleastinterestinunravelling.
TheLatinnamewasLeptospermumrubite.Itwasaplantaboutfourincheshighwithsmall,heather-likefoliageandawhiteflowerwithfivepetalsaboutoneinchacross.
TheplantwasnativetotheAustralianbushanduplands,whereitwastobefoundamongtussocksofgrass.ThereitwascalledDesertSnow.SomeoneatthebotanicalgardensinUppsalawouldlaterconfirmthatitwasaplantseldomcultivatedinSweden.ThebotanistwroteinherreportthatitwasrelatedtotheteatreeandthatitwassometimesconfusedwithitsmoremoncousinLeptospermumscoparium,whichgrewinabundanceinNewZealand.Whatdistinguishedthem,shepointedout,wasthatrubitehadasmallnumberofmicroscopicpinkdotsatthetipsofthepetals,givingtheflowerafaintpinkishtinge.
Rubitewasaltogetheranunpretentiousflower.Ithadnoknownmedicin