killed them? And why?
“I can reconstruct the unfinished text,” Blomkvist said. “Malin and I have to go through the unedited chapters line by line and see where more work still needs to be done. For most of it, all we have to do is follow Dag’s notes, but we do have a problem in chapters four and five, which are largely based on Mia’s interviews. Dag didn’t fill in who the sources were, but with one or two exceptions I think we can use the references in her thesis as a primary source.”
“What about the last chapter?”
“I have Dag’s outline, and we talked it through so many times that I know more or less exactly what he wanted to say. I propose that we lift the summary and use it as an afterword, where I can also explain his reasoning.”
“Fair enough, but I want to approve it. We can’t be putting words in his mouth.”
“No danger of that. I’ll write the chapter as my personal reflection and sign it. I’ll describe how he came to write and research the book and say what sort of person he was. I’ll conclude by recapping what he said in at least a dozen conversations over the past few months. There’s plenty in his draft that I can quote. I think I can make it sound dignified.”
“I want this book published more than ever,” Berger said.
Blomkvist understood exactly what she meant.
Berger put her reading glasses on the desk and shook her head. She got up and poured two cups of coffee from the thermos and sat down opposite Blomkvist.
“Christer and I have a layout for the replacement issue. We’ve taken two articles earmarked for the issue after this one and we’re going to fill the gaps with freelance material. But it’ll be a bit of this and a bit of that, an issue without any real focus.”
They sat quietly for a moment.
“Have you listened to the news?” Berger asked.
“No. I know what they’re going to say.”
“It’s the top story on every radio station. The second-place story is a political move by the Centre Party.”
“Which means that absolutely nothing else is happening in the country.”
“The police haven’t released their names yet. They’re being described as a ‘conscientious couple.’ No-one’s mentioned that it was you who found them.”
“I’ll bet the police will do all they can to keep it quiet. At least that’s to our advantage.”
“Why would the police want to do that?”
“Because detectives basically hate a media circus. I would guess something will leak out sometime tonight or early tomorrow morning.”
“So young and so cynical.”
“We aren’t that young anymore, Ricky. I thought about it while I was being questioned last night. The police inspector looked like she could still be at school.”
Berger gave a weak laugh. She had had a few hours’ sleep last night, but she was beginning to feel the strain. Still, in no time at all she would be editor in chief of one of the largest newspapers in Sweden.
“Henry called a while ago. A preliminary investigation leader named Ekstrom held some sort of press conference this afternoon.”
“Richard Ekstrom?”
“Yes. Do you know him?”
“Political flunky. Guaranteed media circus. This is going to get plenty of publicity.”
“Well, he says that the police are already following up certain leads and hope to solve the case soon. Otherwise he pretty much said nothing. But apparently the place was jammed with reporters.”
Blomkvist rubbed his eyes. “I can’t get the image of Mia’s body out of my mind. Damn, I was just getting to know them.”
“Some crazy –”
“I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it all day.”
“About what?”
“Mia was shot from the side. I saw the entry wound on the side of her neck and the exit wound in her forehead. Dag was shot from the front. The bullet went into his forehead, and came out the back of his head. Those looked to be the only two shots. It doesn’t feel like the act of a lone nutcase.”
Berger looked at her partner thoughtfully. “So what was it?”
“If it’s not a random killing, then there has to be a motive. And the more I think about it, the more it feels as if this manuscript provides a damned good motive.” Blomkvist gestured at the stack of paper on Berger’s desk. She followed his eyes. Then they looked at each other. “Maybe it’s not the book itself. Maybe they had done too much snooping and managed to… I don’t know… maybe somebody felt threatened.”
“And hired a hit man. Micke – that’s the stuff of American movies. This book is about the exploiters, the users. It names police officers, politicians, journalists… So you think one of them murdered Dag and Mia?”
“I don’t know, Ricky. But we’re supposed to be going to press in three weeks with the toughest expose of trafficking that’s ever been published in Sweden.”
At that moment Eriksson knocked and put her head round the door. An Inspector Bublanski wanted to speak with Blomkvist.
Bublanski shook hands with Berger and Blomkvist and sat down in the third chair at the table by the window. He studied Blomkvist and saw a hollow-eyed man with a day’s growth of beard.
“Have there been any developments?” Blomkvist said.
“Maybe. I understand you were the one who found the couple in Enskede and called the police last night.”
Blomkvist nodded wearily.
“I know that you told your story to the detective on duty last night, but I wonder if you could clarify a few details for me.”
“What would you like to know?”
“How did you come to be driving over to see Svensson and Johansson so late at night?”
“That’s not a detail, it’s a whole novel,” Blomkvist said with a tired smile. “I was at a dinner party at my sister’s house – she lives in a new development in Staket. Dag Svensson called me on my mobile and said that he wasn’t going to have time to come to the office on Thursday – today, that is – as we had previously agreed. He was supposed to deliver some photographs to our art director. The reason he gave was that he and Mia had decided to drive up to her parents’ house over the weekend, and they wanted to leave early in the morning. He asked if it would be OK if he messengered them to me last night instead. I said that since I lived so close, I could pick up the photographs on my way home from my sister’s.”
“So you drove to Enskede to pick up photographs.”
“Yes.”
“Can you think of any motive for the murders of Svensson and Johansson?”
Blomkvist and Berger glanced at each other. Neither said a word.
“What is it?” Bublanski wanted to know.
“We’ve discussed the matter today and we’re having a bit of a disagreement. Well, actually not a disagreement – we’re just not certain. We would rather not speculate.”
“Tell me.”
Blomkvist described to him the subject of Svensson’s book, and how he and Berger had been discussing whether it might have some connection to the murders. Bublanski sat quietly for a moment, digesting the information.
“So Dag Svensson was about to expose police officers.”
He did not at all like the turn the conversation had taken, and imagined how a “police trail” might wander back and forth in the media and give rise to all kinds of conspiracy theories.
“No,” Blomkvist said. “He was about to expose criminals, a few of whom happen to be police officers. There are also one or two members of my own profession, namely journalists.”
