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.
He raised his brows, acknowledging the famous quote. But said nothing.
“You think that’s what I’ve done?” She didn’t seem defensive, merely curious. Almost amused. “You’re not the first person to say that. Can statistics be manipulated? Absolutely. We’ve all seen it. Politicians, pollsters, ad execs. Anyone with an agenda can spin statistics. But I can tell you, and I suspect Chancellor Roberge will agree, that few academics would do that, if only because we’d soon be found out in peer review. We’d lose all credibility, lose the respect of colleagues, and risk censure by our university.”
“As you have.”
There was a pause as that dug in.
“True,” she finally said. “But it’s not because I’m wrong. In fact, it’s because they know I’m right and it makes them uncomfortable.”
And Gamache remembered what the Chancellor had said, as he’d left her office. That while shocking, even abhorrent, Professor Robinson’s figures were actually correct.
But correct and right were two different things. As were facts and truth.
He leaned forward. “Why are you here?”
“The Chancellor thought it would be more comfortable,” said Abigail.
“No, I mean why come to Québec? This area? At this time of year? It wasn’t to do an event. That wasn’t organized until after the decision had been made. What brought you here?”
“We wanted to see Colette,” said Abigail. “It’d been a difficult few months since the Royal Commission turned down my report. I wanted a change of scene and I wanted her advice.”
“And yet you didn’t exactly rush over to see her.”
Abigail glanced at the Chancellor, who’d dropped her eyes.
“Okay, you want the truth?”
“Please.”
“The main reason we came now is simple. I’ve sold my house, and the place is filled with boxes.”
“It’s a complete mess,” agreed Debbie.
“So you flew across the continent to get away from boxes?” asked Lacoste.
“It’s hard to explain,” said Abigail with a sigh. “After my father died I’d just stuck all the boxes from his place in the attic and forgot about them. But now I have to go through it all and decide what to keep. It was”—she thought for a moment—“emotional. I felt overwhelmed. Colette had always said how beautiful it is here, especially at this time of year. How peaceful.” She looked at Gamache. “I wonder if you understand. All I wanted was peace.”
“So you held a rally?” asked Lacoste.
“One hour out of my holiday,” said Professor Robinson. “Who could have seen what would happen?”
Gamache took a breath and chose not to pursue that again.
“Still, some good has come of it,” said Debbie.
“And what’s that?” asked Gamache.
“We had a call this morning. Haven’t had a chance to tell you yet, Colette.”
“From?” said the Chancellor.
“The Premier of Québec,” said Debbie. “He saw the news reports. I guess he realized there’s growing support. He wants to meet to discuss Abigail’s findings. You might have to enforce a whole new law.”
What had been political suicide two days earlier had suddenly become viable.
Gamache didn’t react except to grow even more still. While beside him, Isabelle Lacoste imagined forcing the elderly and sick to accept a lethal injection.
Gamache glanced at the Chancellor and said, softly, “I wonder if that was predictable.”
But she was paying no attention. Colette was looking out the window at her husband walking hand in hand with one of the grandchildren.
“They’re still here?” Gamache asked. “The children?”
“Leaving after lunch,” said Colette.
“We’ve also had calls from most of the major news organizations. I’ve lined up interviews for Abby all afternoon,” said Debbie. “In fact, we have a live one with CNN in a few minutes, then the BBC after that. We’ve already done the Canadian shows. Our followers on social media have doubled since last night.”
Gamache knew this. He’d been tracking the surge since the shooting.
“May I have a word?” Gamache asked Chancellor Roberge, who nodded and rose.
CHAPTER 15
They left the warm kitchen and walked through the living room and into a small study. It was crammed with memorabilia. Photographs. Awards. Degrees. The Chancellor’s Order of Canada and Ordre National du Québec.
And books, books, and more books.
She turned. “What can I do for you, Armand?”
“I’d like to see any emails between you and either Professor Robinson or Madame Schneider.”
“You don’t believe her?” At a look from him she smiled. “Or me.”
“Let’s just say I too am thorough.”
She sat at her desk, just as a distant door burst open. Gamache turned quickly toward the sudden bang, but relaxed when he saw a gang of kids pour into the mudroom down the hall. Their cheeks were rosy, their hair askew from tuques. They’d obviously spent the morning on the slopes and were arguing over skiing versus snowboarding.
The Chancellor, glasses on, looked at him. “They’re leaving. I promise.”
From the kitchen, where he’d left Lacoste, he heard Debbie try to quiet the kids, explaining that an interview was about to begin.
“There they are, Armand,” said Colette, pushing back from the desk. “Not many. Would you like me to print them out?”
“Yes, please.”
“Old school,” she smiled, and hitting a key, she walked over to the printer.
“Just old.” He pulled his chair up in front of the screen, and brought out his reading glasses.
He could hear Professor Robinson from the kitchen, beginning the interview. Creating a split screen, he put CNN Live on one side, the emails on the other.
The host started off politely enough, asking after her well-being. Then they showed clips from the event. It was footage the Sûreté, as far as he knew, had not been given.
From what he could see, there was nothing new in it. The camera was focused on the stage, of course, not the audience.
It showed the pandemonium. The restoration of a fragile calm. And then the shots.
When the video ended, the host started in on Professor Robinson.
“You make it sound like what you’re proposing is some sort of kindness, but aren’t you actually saying, ‘God help you if you get sick, ’cause society sure won’t.’ We all saw what happened in care homes during the pandemic, and now you want to make that government policy?”
“First of all, I’m not saying anything. The statistics speak for themselves. And what we learned in the pandemic is that that tragedy must never, ever be repeated. No one should die like that. This would prevent—”
Gamache turned it off, and Colette noticed that his right hand was trembling just slightly.
“She’s very good, isn’t she?” said the Chancellor.
“She knows how to handle herself in an interview, yes.” Which was, he knew, far different from being good. “How well did you know Abigail’s father?”
“What do you mean?”
“You seem to have had an intimate relationship.”
She smiled and sat down next to him. “I guess we did. But not in the way you might mean. He was older than me. A combination of mentor and older brother. It was more a meeting of the minds than the hearts.”
“And his wife, Abigail’s mother? How did she feel about your relationship?”
“I never met her. She’d died. Why’re you interested? It was decades ago. Maybe you want to concentrate on the living.”
He smiled. “I’ve chased ghosts before, but no, I just like to get a full picture. With both her mother and father dead, Abigail must’ve grown close to you.”