The next one on my list was Asscher. It hadn’t been easy to get him to agree to a meeting. Only when I mentioned that I could also call him at home about this matter if he liked, he surrendered. We agreed to meet at a highway rest stop that I suspected was mainly frequented by traveling salesmen and people on Match.com dates. The tables had salmon-pink tablecloths and little vases with a couple of gerbera daisies wrapped in a caster bean leaf. An optimistic attempt at giving the dump some atmosphere.
I could understand what Rosita had seen in Victor. Not exactly handsome, he did radiate an unmistakable virility. Not bad for an accountant. Tall, sturdily built, and he wore his hair longer than you’d expect of someone wearing a gray tailored suit and striped silk tie.
“I already told you over the phone, I have nothing to add. I’ve told the police all I know. And I don’t have much time.”
“You spoke to the police? Strange . . .”
He didn’t bother to hide his irritation. “What do you mean, strange?”
“Your statement isn’t in the record.”
“Right. So?” I stared at him quizzically for as long as it took for him to elaborate. “I was in Crete with my family at the time of the murder. I read about it in the newspaper.” He swallowed.
“When you were still in Crete or after you got home?”
“In a café in one of those Greek fishing villages. I just happened to see a three-day-old Dutch newspaper. That’s where I read it.”
I pictured Asscher, surrounded by wife and kids, reading the terrible news about his mistress. “That must have been awful.”
I saw that he was getting emotional. “Would you like a glass of water?”
He nodded.
When I returned with the water, Asscher was blowing his nose in a neatly pressed pale blue handkerchief. I was struck by how old-fashioned that was. I didn’t know anyone who still used a linen handkerchief, let alone anyone who had the time or inclination to iron them.
“I’m sorry,” said Asscher. “I’m not used to talking about it.”
“I understand. It must feel very lonely, keeping a secret like that.”
“Yes.” His eyes were watery again. “Do we really need to dredge this all up?”
“I am so sorry. I will try to keep this as easy as possible. We were talking about why your statement wasn’t in the official record, Mr. Asscher.”
“You can call me Victor.” He smiled through his tears. “I wasn’t planning to go to the police at first. Not on my own account, but to spare my wife, Millie. It would break her heart if she ever knew I’d had a mistress and a child.”
I gave a sympathetic murmur. Rence used to say, “Building trust is largely a matter of making the right reassuring noise at the right moment.”
“After a few weeks I began to feel remorse,” Asscher went on. “I thought, what if I’m the one holding the missing piece of information? I went to the police, but they didn’t seem too interested. They listened to my story and that was it. I asked if they wanted me to sign a statement or anything, but the case was already solved, they told me.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I see.”
“It was an open-and-shut case—Boelens did it. That guy isn’t normal.”
“Didn’t he slash your tires once?”
“Yes. I did try to warn her about him. Especially after that slashing incident. The way he went at it like a maniac . . . terrifying. ‘That man is dangerous,’ I told Rosita. ‘Stay away from him.’ But no. She said he was a friend . . . A friend! ‘He isn’t like you or me,’ she’d say, ‘but he has a good heart.’ Well, we sure have proof of that, don’t we? Do you know how many times Rosita was stabbed? Fourteen.”
“Do you have any idea why Rosita considered him a friend?”
He shrugged. “Mainly to make me jealous, I’d think. As if I could be jealous of someone like that guy. I can still see him coming home from work with one of those disgusting little cake offerings for Anna. Every day he’d bring her one. Can you imagine? He’d sometimes babysit Anna, too. I didn’t think it was a great idea, but Rosita said it could do no harm. In hindsight . . .” He blew his nose again.
“Please, take your time.”
“This is hard for me.”
“I know.”
“Shit. I’m not usually such an emotional wreck.”
“As an accountant you’re probably rarely in danger of getting your emotions involved.”
He laughed.
“Did Rosita have any other enemies? Or any debts?”
Asscher took some time to think about it, then shook his head. “She was a spirited girl. I do have to say that. A ticking time bomb even, sometimes. But enemies? I don’t think so.”
“I don’t quite get what you mean. In what sense was she a ticking time bomb?”
He hesitated. “You know. Hotheaded. Latin temperament.”
“For a spirited girl like Rosita, wasn’t it hard to play second fiddle all the time? To your wife, I mean?”
If I’d had Asscher’s trust, it was over. The steel shutters came down with a mighty crash. “I don’t see the relevance of this line of questioning. Where are you going with this?”
“I’m trying to get a better sense of the sort of people who knew Rosita Angeli. And you were one of them.”
“I’d almost forgotten you were Boelens’s attorney. Say hi to him for me. And tell him that once he’s sprung from that institution he’s going to get what’s coming to him.”
I tried to think of something to get Asscher talking again, but he was already on his feet. He stuck out his hand. “Good-bye.”
I stayed behind, perplexed. I’d hit a raw nerve, obviously. I couldn’t imagine Rosita being happy with her mistress status. She struck me as someone who liked to be number one. Why else would Asscher have said that she wanted to make him jealous?
As I picked up my purse, another thought occurred to me. Had Rosita threatened to tell Asscher’s wife about the relationship?