ose people ihat va. and she had been his lover. how could he be objective? he ly agine her as a murderer.
now a hitherto unknown photograph was telling him that she had lied whehat she had never been i’s room that day. blomkvist wrestled with the possible sig.
and if you lied about that, what else did you lie about?
he went through in his mind what he k ce ied person obviously affected by her past. lived alone, had no sex life, had difficulty gettio people. kept her distand whehere was . she cher for a lover. had said that she e because she was uo live with the idea that he would go from her life as uedly as he had appeared. blomkvist supposed that the reason she had dared to start an affair with him recisely that he was only there for a while. she did o be afraid he would ge her life in any long-term way.
he sighed ahe amateur psychology aside.
he made the sed disc the he mystery as that harriet had seead. he would hat out unless he vent a time mad stand behind her, looking over her shoulder.
ahought. he slapped his forehead and opened his ibook. he to the unages in the series atan and…there!
behi and about a yard tht were a youhe man ier and the ale jacket. she was holding a camera. when blomkvist ehe image it looked to be a kodak instamatic with flash—a era for people who know nothing about photography.
the woman was holding the camera at level. then she raised it and took a picture of the s, just as harriet’s expression ged.
blomkvist pared the camera’s position with harriet’s line of vision. the womaure of exactly what harriet was looking at.
his heart was beating hard. he leaned bad plucked his cigarettes out of his breast poeoaken a picture. how would he identify and find the woman? could he get hold of her snapshot? had the roll ever been developed, and if so did the prints still exist?
he opehe folder with nylund’s photographs from the crowd. for the couple of hours he enlarged ead sised it o a time. he did he couple again until the very last piylund had photographed another with balloons in his hand posing in front of his d laughihe photographs were taken in a car park by the ehe sports field where the celebration was bei must have been after 2:00 iernht after that nyluhe alarm about the the bridge and brought his portraits of ’s day to a rapid close.
the woman was almost hiddehe striped sweater was clearly visible, in profile. he had keys in his hand ao open a car door. the fo the the fround, and the car was a bit fuzzy. the e artly hidden but he could see that it started with “ac3.”
es iies began with a dig the d as a kvist had memorised the ty codes. “ac” was for v?sterbotten.
theed somethihe badow was a stie sort. he zoomed i dissolved in a blur. he cropped out the stid adjusted the trast aook him a while. he still ot read the words, but he attempted to figure out what the letters were, based on the fuzzy shapes. maers lly similar. an “o” istaken for a “d,” a “b” for an “e,” and so en and paper and exg letters, he was left with aext, in one line.
r j? ni k rifa rik
he stared at the image until his eyes begahehe text. “norsj? snickerifabrik,” followed by figures ihat were utterly impossible to read, probably a telephone number.
chapter 17
wednesday, juurday, june 14
blomkvist got help with the third jigsaw pie aed quarter.
after w on the images practically all heavily uhe afternoon. he awoke with a headache, took a shower, ao susanne’s for breakfast. he ought to have goo see vanger a he had discovered. instead, when he came bat to cecilia’s house ahe door. he o ask her why she had lied to him about being i’s room. o the door.
he was just leaving when he heard: “your whore isn’t home.”<br/
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