That was presumably why she had black rings under her eyes, Moreno thought, when fröken Kristeva turned up at the police station at a couple of minutes after seven.
‘Two women police officers?’ said Kristeva when the polite preliminaries had been completed. ‘That’s something I hadn’t expected. Is this some kind of new interrogation psychology you are developing?’
‘It’s pure coincidence,’ said Inspector Sammelmerk. ‘Please take a seat. Coffee? Water?’
‘Water, please.’ She ran her hands over her somewhat creased blue jacket, and turned to Moreno. ‘I gather it was you I spoke to on the telephone — I don’t think we’ve met before.’
‘That’s right,’ said Moreno. ‘And I must say you really surprised me. So we’d be grateful if you could tell us the whole story from the beginning. We need to record it as well — it could be the crucial proof we are looking for. Then we’ll write a summary which you must call in and sign within the next few days. It’s standard procedure, so to say.’
‘I understand,’ said Kristeva, looking down at the floor. ‘I know I ought to have come to see you much earlier, but I didn’t get round to it. This business. . well, it hasn’t been easy.’
Sammelmerk switched on the tape recorder.
‘Interrogation of Anna Kristeva at Maardam Police Station on the fifth of March 2001,’ she said. ‘The time is 19.15. Those present are Inspector Moreno and Inspector Sammelmerk. Would you please tell us why you have come here, fröken Kristeva.’
Kristeva took a deep breath and looked a few times at each inspector in turn before starting.
‘Ester Peerenkaas,’ she said. ‘It’s about Ester Peerenkaas, my friend, who’s been missing for. . well, it must be a month and a half by now. Most people have probably assumed she’s dead — that she was murdered by that man who has killed several women previously, it seems. But that is not the case. Ester is alive.’
She had been staring fixedly at the tape recorder during these preliminary remarks. Now she paused briefly, looked up and drank a sip of water.
‘Go on,’ said Moreno.
Kristeva put her glass back on the table and clasped her hands in her lap.
‘I also thought she was dead, to be honest. But then one evening a couple of weeks ago, she phoned me. It was the nineteenth of February, a Monday evening. I was awfully surprised, of course. . and awfully pleased. At first I thought it was somebody having me on, but nothing could have made me happier than that telephone call — although I hadn’t yet heard her story. She asked if she could come and stay with me for a few days, and she begged me to promise not to tell anybody that she was still alive. I didn’t understand why — not until I saw her and heard what had happened that night. . And until I heard about her plan.’
‘Her plan?’
‘Yes.’
She paused again and shook her head slightly, as if she found it hard to believe her own words.
‘She turned up with a suitcase that same night, and when I saw her face I had quite a shock. It looked awful. My first reaction was that it looked like severe burns — the kind of thing you see on the television and in the newspapers. . But it was in fact hydrofluoric acid in Ester’s case. I don’t know if you are aware of what such acid does to your skin, what a mess it can make of a face.’
Moreno exchanged glances with her colleague, who frowned and looked vaguely doubtful.
‘Hydrofluoric acid?’ she said.
‘Yes, it’s much worse than hydrochloric acid and sulphuric acid and stuff like that. It sort of creeps though the skin and deep down into the flesh. . Hmm, maybe I don’t need to describe it in detail?’
‘I think I’ve actually seen it once,’ said Sammelmerk. ‘What hydrofluoric acid does to you. I agree with you, it’s horrendous. So you’re saying that Ester Peerenkaas had got some of that in her face, is that right?’
‘Yes.’
‘How did it happen?’ asked Sammelmerk. ‘I recall another friend of hers telling us that she used to carry a little bottle of acid in her handbag. Was that what. .?’
Kristeva nodded.
‘Exactly. She always had that bottle with her. The idea was to protect herself from rapists. And that’s how it happened, but not quite in the way intended. I don’t know exact details, Ester didn’t want to discuss it. . She has changed a lot, not just her face. She’s. . well, it’s taken me quite a while to catch on, but she’s gone mad. Crazy and dangerous. It was hard going, having her staying with me: she’s like a. . like a black hole. I’ve tried talking to her, tried to make her see some sort of light in the darkness, but she hasn’t listened to me, not even for a second. When I’ve tried to come close to her she has simply pointed at her deformed face and told me to go to hell. She’s obsessed by what has happened to her. Totally obsessed.’
‘So what actually happened?’ asked Moreno. ‘You said she gave some indication of it at least.’
Kristeva nodded.
‘Yes, I know what happened — but only in broad outline. He tried to kill her. Not to rape her, that wasn’t his primary aim at least. He had his hands round her neck and was going to strangle her, but she managed to get the bottle out of her handbag to throw over him. He somehow managed to fend her off: I think he was standing behind her, and she got most of it in her own face. But a small amount landed on him, and that’s what presumably saved her life. She somehow managed to run out of the flat, he rushed into the bathroom, bellowing away, and switched on the shower, according to Ester. She splashed cold water onto her face from the kitchen tap, gathered together her things and raced off with a wet towel over her head — and terrible pains, of course.’
‘How much of her face was affected?’ Moreno wondered. ‘It must have been horrendously painful.’
‘It was a miracle that she managed to make it home,’ said Kristeva. ‘The whole of her right cheek up to her eye is ruined, and part of her nose and forehead as well. She looks grotesque, like a leper. At least she can still see out of that eye, but her skin is. . well, there’s hardly any of it left. She sleeps with a wet towel over her face now.’
‘Good Lord!’ exclaimed Sammelmerk. ‘Is it possible to. . to repair it somehow?’
Kristeva sighed.
‘I don’t really know. She didn’t want to talk about it, but I’ve been in touch with a doctor — without letting on what it was really all about, of course — and he says it’s possible to restore a face to a certain extent. Even if it’s very disfigured. It would take a series of small operations and transplants over a period of about five or six years. The problem is that Ester isn’t interested in such a solution — not yet at least.’
‘I can understand that,’ said Moreno, stroking her cheek lightly with two fingers. She could feel that she had goose pimples.
‘What did she do when she got home that evening?’ asked Sammelmerk. ‘I thought it was necessary to get medical care as soon as possible?’
‘Yes indeed. But not in this case. She said she kept herself locked up in her flat for a whole night and a day, bathing her face in water and applying ointments and whatever else she had at hand. The next evening she took the night train to Paris with a shawl over her head and face, and dark glasses, of course. She stayed in Paris for a month.’
‘A month in Paris?’ said Moreno. ‘Where? Why?’
‘At a friend’s. She knows quite a lot of people there. She lived in Paris during the years she was married. She went to a doctor specializing in skin conditions — apparently he is one of her circle of acquaintances there — and got some help. She hid herself away in her friend’s flat. Lay low and prepared for her return.’
She paused again and eyed Moreno and Sammelmerk for several seconds. As if she were telling a story that wasn’t true, Moreno thought, and needed to keep stopping to check that her listeners were still interested in what was coming next.