ory,thesequenceofeventsthatendedinherdisappearance,startedinHedestad.Thatshiftstheperspective.”
Salandersaid:“Itwasamazingwhatyoudiscoveredwiththepictures.”
Blomkvistwassurprised.Salanderdidnotseemthetypetothrowplimentsaround,andhefeltflattered.Ontheotherhand—fromapurelyjournalisticpointofview—itwasquiteanachievement.
“It’syourturntofillinthedetails.HowdiditgowiththatpictureyouwerechasingupinNorsj??”
“Youmeanyoudidn’tchecktheimagesinmyputer?”
“Therewasn’ttime.Ineededtoreadtherésumés,yoursituationreportstoyourself.”
Blomkviststartedhisiandclickedonthephotographfolder.
“It’sfascinating.ThevisittoNorsj?wasasortofprogress,butitwasalsoadisappointment.Ifoundthepicture,butitdoesn’ttellusmuch.
“Thatwoman,MildredBerggren,hadsavedallherholidaypicturesinalbums.ThepictureIwaslookingforwasoneofthem.Itwastakenoncheapcolourfilmandafterthirty-sevenyearstheprintwasincrediblyfaded—withastrongyellowtinge.But,wouldyoubelieve,shestillhadthenegativeinashoebox.SheletmeborrowallthenegativesfromHedestadandI’vescannedthemin.ThisiswhatHarrietsaw.”
HeclickedonanimagewhichnowhadthefilenameHARRIET/bd-19.eps.
Salanderimmediatelyunderstoodhisdismay.ShesawanunfocusedimagethatshowedclownsintheforegroundoftheChildren’sDayparade.InthebackgroundcouldbeseenthecornerofSundstr?m’sHaberdashery.AbouttenpeoplewerestandingonthepavementinfrontofSundstr?m’s.
“Ithinkthisisthepersonshesaw.PartlybecauseItriedtotriangulatewhatshewaslookingat,judgingbytheanglethatherfacewasturned—Imadeadrawingofthecrossroadsthere—andpartlybecausethisistheonlypersonwhoseemstobelookingstraightintothecamera.Meaningthat—perhaps—hewasstaringatHarriet.”
WhatSalandersawwasablurryfigurestandingalittlebitbehindthespectators,almostinthesidestreet.Hehadonadarkpaddedjacketwitharedpatchontheshouldersanddarktrousers,possiblyjeans.Blomkvistzoomedinsothatthefigurefromthewaistupfilledthescreen.Thephotographbecameinstantlyfuzzierstill.
“It’saman.He’saboutfive-f