“You’re going to find it a little warm down here,” she said. “I’m afraid the lack of air-conditioning only makes it worse.”

She wrinkled her nose-and a most attractive little nose it was, Hector thought.

The “it” she was referring to was the smell. On a stainless-steel table next to the door, there was a jar of what appeared to be petroleum jelly. Dr. Caropreso picked it up, took a dab of the contents on her right forefinger, and spread it above her upper lip.

“May I?” she said, removing another dab and pausing in front of Hector.

“Please,” Hector said.

Even before her finger got anywhere near his nose, he took in the strong smell of camphor. She applied the jelly, focusing on his upper lip. His eyes watered. He blinked-and could have sworn she blinked back.

Arnaldo reached over, took a dab of the jelly and applied it with the practiced gesture of someone who’d done it a hundred times before. And if it was taking the young doctor a lot longer to perform the service for him, which it was, Hector wasn’t about to complain. When she finally finished, he glanced at his uncle, a man who didn’t miss much, and flushed.

Silva was looking back and forth between the two of them. Without missing a beat, Dr. Caropreso met the older man’s eyes and offered him the jar.

“Perhaps you’d better apply it yourself, Chief Inspector. Your mustache. .”

She left the rest of her sentence unfinished and pulled a pair of rubber gloves out of the pocket of her white coat.

Silva smeared some of the jelly between his nostrils, care-fully avoiding his mustache. He was a tall man, who gave the impression of being even taller because he held himself erect, as if he were trying to maintain contact between his neck and the back of his collar.