“And that was?”
“He also had the only funeral home in town.” She paused. “A business that had been in the family for almost a hundred years. It was a nice little funeral home, and he was very competent. So were his father and grandfather and great-grandfather, but, of course, their reputations couldn’t compete with that of their distant cousin in Buenos Aires. Everyone knew that Dr. Pedro Ara was a pathologist without peer.” She nodded at Eva Peron’s photo. “He was the one chosen to embalm Evita Peron, the spiritual soul of Argentina.”
“And I understand he did a fantastic job with very unusual methods for the time.”
“Alcohol in the heel and neck. He and his assistant worked all night for perfect preservation. Which didn’t please Peron’s political foes. They would just as soon have tossed her in a ditch. They couldn’t touch Dr. Ara, but there was a certain amount of persecution leveled at those close to him, including the Montez branch of the family. Particularly in less civilized towns in the hills. Deaths. Beatings. That’s why the Montez clan made sure they never were exposed to the limelight again. They’d learned their lessons.”
“But not enough to close up shop and stop embalming their clients evidently.”
“Tradition … and the desire to prove they were as good or better than Dr. Pedro Ara and his world-famous embalming of Eva Peron.” She grimaced. “And then Uncle Francisco found that Eduardo was an even more brilliant doctor than Ara. He set out to train him to develop even more innovative procedures and show everyone that the Montez branch outshone Ara in every way. When the family saw that Eduardo Montez had potential, I think they coached him, educated him, then helped him experiment and have his discussions with experts in the field. But you can’t do that in complete privacy. Someone must have talked when Santos was asking questions.” She added, “Or when Delores asked questions.”
“On what subject?”
“Delores was vain. She was incredibly beautiful and did everything possible with makeup, clothes, and minor surgery to make sure that she stayed that way. I think that she had a horror of being ugly even in death. Heaven knows she’d seen and caused enough deaths to know what that looked like.”
“Are you guessing?”
“Yes, but some of the places she visited might have been a search. She spent a lot of time in the tombs of Ancient Egypt and the Kremlin. Egypt might have been the first culture to work on preservation. Lenin is still wonderfully preserved in Moscow. It probably impressed her. What if she heard that Montez had developed an embalming procedure that was better than the one Dr. Ara used on Eva Peron?”
“Then, if she thought of herself as great a leader as Eva believed herself to be, she would have done anything to make sure she would have an even greater chance for many years of preservation.” He nodded. “She was truly that vain?”
“From what I know of her, from what Kelly has found out, I’d say that she would have stolen Lenin’s coffin if she thought she could have gotten away with it.”
“Instead, she went after Montez.”
“And he suddenly came into a lot of money and moved his entire family to Guatemala shortly after he met with Santos and Delores.”
“They paid him for what? I believe Delores was in fine health until you shot her.”
“Future insurance? Eva Peron had her entire funeral planned, down to having her hairdresser come in and bleach her hair after her death.” She saw his brows rise, and she said in exasperation, “I don’t know. How could I? It is guesswork.” Her hands clenched. “But I’m close, Hu Chang. I know I’m close.”
“I know you are, too,” he said quietly. “And I do enjoy watching you move toward your goals. It gives me great pleasure to—”
“I’m not trying to entertain you, dammit.” She leaned forward. “I came down here for help. Now I’ve told you what I know and—”
“Guess,” Hu Chang corrected.
“Guess. Now you tell me what you know, you arrogant bastard.”
“Well, I wouldn’t actually say ‘know,’ although my calculated surmises are much more scientifically based than any you’ve—” He held up his hand as she opened her lips. “I’m getting there. And I admit that your insight has filled in several holes in my theory of what Montez was working on.” He looked back at the photo of Eva Peron. “Poor woman, she was born a little too soon. Delores was much more fortunate.”
“Hu Chang.”
“Well, until you killed her. But even then she was planning on not letting that defeat her.”
“You mean those equations are for an advanced procedure for embalming and preservation?”
“Yes and no. Think about the degrees that Montez earned and how they could apply.”
“Medical, chemical, mechanical engineering, theology,” she said impatiently. “And I don’t want to think. Tell me. Yes and no. What’s the yes?”
“Yes, there are chemical formulas in his book that are brilliant and innovative and probably concern an amazingly noninvasive form of embalming fluid.”
“So I was right.”
He smiled.
“Okay, what’s the no?”
“He wasn’t satisfied with just going a few giant steps further than Dr. Ara did with Peron. He decided that he could do much more.” He paused. “Hence the degree in mechanical engineering. He wanted to address not only cosmetic preservation but something more permanent. Or not. Considering your beliefs. I found formulas using liquid nitrogen and a glycerol-based chemical protectant mixture. I’m almost sure that they were to be used as a cryoprotectant.”
“Cryoprotectant?”
“Human antifreeze,” he said bluntly.