The Madness of Crowds
- Автор: Пенни Луиза
- Серия: Chief Inspector Gamache #17
- Год: 2021
- Язык: английский
- Год: St. Martin's Publishing Group
- ISBN: 9781250145284
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «The Madness of Crowds». Краткое содержание книги:
You're a coward.
Time and again, as the New Year approaches, that charge is leveled against Armand Gamache.
It starts innocently enough.
While the residents of the Québec village of Three Pines take advantage of the deep snow to ski and toboggan, to drink hot chocolate in the bistro and share meals together, the Chief Inspector finds his holiday with his family interrupted by a simple request.
He's asked to provide security for what promises to be a non-event. A visiting professor of statistics will be giving a lecture at the nearby university.
While he is perplexed as to why the head of homicide for the Sûreté du Québec would be assigned this task, it sounds easy enough. That is, until Gamache starts looking into Professor Abigail Robinson and discovers an agenda so repulsive he begs the university to cancel the lecture.
They refuse, citing academic freedom, and accuse Gamache of censorship and intellectual cowardice. Before long, Professor Robinson's views start seeping into conversations. Spreading and infecting. So that truth and fact, reality and delusion, are so confused it's near impossible to tell them apart.
Discussions become debates, debates become arguments, which turn into fights. As sides are declared, a madness takes hold.
Abigail Robinson promises that if they follow her, ça va bien aller. All will be well. But not, Gamache and his team know, for everyone.
When a murder is committed, it falls to Armand Gamache, his second-in-command Jean-Guy Beauvoir, and their team to investigate the crime as well as this extraordinary popular delusion.
And the madness of crowds.
“So how did it come about?”
Now the Chancellor looked decidedly uncomfortable. “That was my doing, I’m afraid. I mentioned in passing, more as a joke than anything, that if she needed to write the trip off, she should give a lecture. Two days later she called back—”
“She called? None of this was done by email or text?”
“No. All calls.”
Armand took that in. It meant no paper trail. No way to confirm anything except that the calls happened. But not what was discussed.
“She asked if there was an arena or something she could book. I thought it was her turn to joke. An arena. But then I watched her last talk and saw the crowd.”
“So you booked the gym for her?”
The slip of paper in her hand had been a pretty good indication that the Chancellor was responsible, but it was still an unpleasant shock to have it confirmed.
“What was I supposed to do? It was my idea.”
“Say nothing was available. Decline. Refuse. Lie.” He was staring at her, trying to understand how a person he’d always thought of as intelligent could do something so stupid.
And then a thought occurred. “You didn’t want to turn her down. In fact, you made the suggestion knowing she’d jump at it. You wanted to make sure she came. Why?”
Chancellor Roberge pressed her lips together and placed the requisition slip on the messy desk.
“She was brilliant, such a dazzling intellect, like her father. But she’d gone so far off the rails, coming to conclusions that seemed not just abhorrent but actually wrong. Yes, I wanted her to come. It was the least I owed her father. I wanted to figure out what had happened. To try to get her back on course.”
“So you arranged for her to give a lecture?” he asked.
“I know, I know,” she said. “Look, I didn’t think anyone would actually come out. A last-minute talk on statistics, in English, in rural Québec, the week between Christmas and New Year’s? It had failure written all over it. Until it happened, I still didn’t believe anyone would show.”
“Okay, it’s done. Let’s set that aside for now. But Colette, if the purpose of her trip wasn’t the lecture, and it wasn’t to see you, then why was she coming here?”
“I’ve wondered that myself. She’s never been before, so why now? I think there must be someone she wants to meet, someone she thinks can help her.”
“She didn’t say who?”
“No, and I didn’t ask.”
“Is that true?”
It seemed incredible that this academic, in the same field, wouldn’t be more than a little curious about who it was. Perhaps even jealous. Who was more prominent and better placed than the Chancellor?
Gamache was more than a little curious.
“Yes, it’s true,” said the Chancellor. “It’s none of my business.”
“It was exactly your business, Colette.”
“Not anymore. I’ve long since retired from the thrilling field of statistics.”
Her attempt at self-mockery was lost on Gamache. He continued to stare as the silence stretched painfully on.
And then the Chancellor spoke, her voice serious now. “Abigail is a unique person, Armand. It’s hard not to get swept into her universe. You must’ve seen it yesterday.”
He had. Not many could grip an audience made up mostly of people who probably hated math with a lecture on statistics. Chancellor Roberge was right. Her former student was riveting. And Abigail Robinson did it not with histrionics, but with a voice so quiet people had to almost strain to hear. It was a kindly crayon voice that carried conviction because it apparently didn’t try.
“Are you saying you were mesmerized by her?” he asked.
“I’m saying there are just people you want to please. Abby is one.”
“Professor Robinson arrived two days ago, a day before the lecture,” said Armand. “Did you see her?”
“No.”
Gamache was well schooled in picking up when someone was hiding something. He wasn’t sure if she’d just lied, or if this was simply an evasion. That there was something he wasn’t asking.
Then he remembered a moment, just before the lecture began, when he’d asked Professor Robinson if someone was going to introduce her. She’d said no but had glanced at the door.
He’d had the impression the professor was stalling. Waiting until the very last minute, and beyond, to go on. Waiting for someone.
“Were you supposed to be there? Did Professor Robinson ask you to introduce her?”
“No.”
The denial was quick. Absolute.
And he didn’t believe it.
“Why didn’t you tell me all this when I went to your house?”
“I didn’t think it was pertinent.” At a look from him, she amended her answer. “I didn’t want anyone to know my involvement. I regretted making the booking almost immediately, but it was too late—”
“It wasn’t too late,” he snapped. “I came to you, practically begging you to cancel, and you refused. Did you regret it or not? Your words say one thing, but your actions say something completely different.”
“As I told you,” she snapped back, “I didn’t think anyone would show. I thought you were overreacting, and that canceling would draw more attention to it than if it just went on and died a natural death.”
They were words she immediately regretted. She was gripping the edge of her desk and leaning toward him, and now she dropped her head. When she raised it, she looked him square in the face.
“I’m sorry. I was obviously wrong. You wanted this.” She handed him the booking slip.
“Your name isn’t on it. It says Tyler Vigen. Who’s he?”
“Nobody. I didn’t want to use a real name, so I made one up.”
He folded the paper, put it into his pocket, then studied her.
“Are you involved in this?” he asked quietly.
“The shooting?”
“Don’t sound so shocked. It’s a natural conclusion. You’d read her paper, you invited her here. You booked the auditorium and had access to it.”
“But you’ve arrested the gunman.”
“True, but he might’ve had help.”
“If he did, it wasn’t from me.” Then her eyes sharpened. “You think that’s how the gun got into the gym. Someone else put it there.”
“We think it’s a possibility, yes. And if that’s the case, the person’s still out there. Are you sure you want to take Professor Robinson and Madame Schneider into your home? With your grandchildren?”
Chancellor Roberge stared at him, her mind clearly working. Then she nodded.
“Thank you for telling me. We’ll be extra careful and make sure the alarms are set.”
Armand stared at her, waiting for more. When none came, he said, “And the children?”
“They’re staying until the weekend. They have ski passes.”
“You’re inviting a person who’s already had one attempt on her life into your home, with a possible second killer out there. Don’t you think the children at least should leave?”
She considered and gave a sigh. “You’re right. I was just so stuck on having them there. They’ll be disappointed.”
“But they’ll be alive. I’ll assign agents to guard your home. I’ll be by later this afternoon to speak to the professor.”
He put on his tuque, then stopped at the door. “You said Abigail Robinson was, is, brilliant.”
“She is. A genius in the field.”
“If she’s such a genius, how did she get the pandemic data and conclusions so wrong?”
“She didn’t.”
“Pardon?”
“I’ve been over her research, her statistics. Even sent her preliminary study to a close friend whose opinion I value. He came to the same conclusion. She’s not wrong.”
“But you said she’d gone off the rails, that they’re—”