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.
As he did, his smile faded.
Facing him, also stopped and staring, was Colette Roberge. And behind her were Abigail Robinson and Debbie Schneider.
CHAPTER 17
“Bonjour,” said Armand, not bothering to smile. “I didn’t realize you’d be here.”
“I invited Chancellor Roberge,” said Dominique, sensing the tension and trying to plaster over it. “She called this afternoon and asked if we were holding our annual New Year’s Eve party. I said we were and she was welcome to come.”
They threw their coats onto the bed, then returned with Armand back down the hall.
“I asked if I could bring some guests,” Colette explained.
“I thought you meant your husband,” said Dominique.
“We seem fated to run into each other, Chief Inspector,” said Abigail Robinson when they’d stopped in the foyer.
“Excusez-moi.” He took Chancellor Roberge aside and dropped his voice. “I thought I asked you to keep Professor Robinson at your place. To not leave the property.”
“You did, but—”
“But we aren’t under arrest,” said Abigail, joining what was clearly meant to be a private conversation. “Are we? Being here isn’t breaking any law, is it?”
Armand took a deep breath. “Non. But for your own safety and the safety of others—”
“No one knew we were coming,” the Chancellor pointed out. “Not even our host.”
Now it was Colette’s turn to take Armand’s arm and lead him farther from the group.
“I didn’t expect to see you here, Armand. How do you know the Gilberts?”
“They’re neighbors. We live in this village. Why are you here, Colette?”
“Abby insisted. Remember I told you there was someone she wanted to meet?”
“They’re here?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“Look, all I know is that she asked me to call around and find out if there were any parties happening here.”
“Here? In this village?”
“Yes. She knew about Three Pines. So I called Dominique and she invited us.”
“She invited you and Jean-Paul, not—” He nodded toward Abigail, then looked out at the gathering.
So far no one had noticed who’d just arrived. Most were still stealing glances at Haniya Daoud, though few were approaching anymore. She was beginning to look like a fortress, with a moat widening around her.
Even Reine-Marie had moved away.
“Who has Abigail come to see?” asked Armand. “You must’ve asked.”
“I did, but she wouldn’t tell me.”
“Why not?”
Colette sighed. “I don’t know.”
He stared at her. “You could’ve refused, you know. You didn’t have to bring her here. What’re you playing at, Colette?”
“Nothing. Just trying to help the daughter of a friend.”
“Why?”
“Pardon?”
“Why? Why go through all this? What do you owe him? Or her? Why’re you doing all this for her? You know how this looks.”
“How?” The Chancellor was also getting annoyed. “How exactly does this look?”
“You set up her talk. You have her staying with you. You bring her to this party. It looks like you support her campaign.”
“I support her right—”
“Oh, please. Save it for the Board of Governors. We both know you’re making some very”—he paused for the right word—“dangerous choices.”
“Dangerous?” She almost laughed. “Are you feeling threatened, Armand? A strong, smart woman is putting forward compelling arguments that fly in the face of your beliefs. And you don’t like it.”
“I’m the head of homicide for the Sûreté du Québec, Colette, not some student who can be lectured, frightened, or bullied into falling in line. The threat against Professor Robinson is real and proven, and you’ve taken her out of a safe place and back into the public. Possibly endangering not just her, but everyone here. Including my family. That’s the dangerous choice you’ve made. It’s not against the law, but it sure flies in the face of good judgment.”
Some of the other guests had begun to recognize Abigail Robinson.
Phones were swinging from Haniya Daoud to the newcomer. Photos taken.
He turned back to Chancellor Roberge. “I’m not trying to stop her. I’m actually trying to keep her alive. Are you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He gestured toward the phones pointed at Abigail. A buzz had gone through the room.
“It’ll be all over social media in moments. If you have an ounce of reason left, you’ll tell her to meet whoever she came to see tomorrow. At your place. Privately.” He stared at her. “Go home, Colette.”
As he spoke, he noticed that Abigail Robinson was looking at someone in the crowd.
Haniya Daoud.
The Nobel nominee’s arms were folded tight across her body. And she was staring back.
Surely not her, thought Armand.
But …
Vincent Gilbert had asked why Madame Daoud was there. Maybe it wasn’t to visit Myrna. Maybe that was just the excuse. And this was the reason.
Was Professor Robinson here to meet Madame Daoud? And Haniya Daoud here to meet Abigail Robinson? But if so, to what end? What could the Hero of the Sudan and a woman proposing mass and targeted killing have to talk about?
Unless it wasn’t to talk.
Get out of my way, Haniya had said just last night.
Would I, this time? Step aside?
Armand felt a cold draft on the back of his neck and glanced at the front door, but it was closed.
“Is that Haniya Daoud?” Debbie Schneider asked. “Why would she be here?” There was a pause before she said, “My God, Abby. I think it is her. If we could get her endorsement…”
But Abigail’s eyes had moved on. She was no longer looking at Haniya. She was staring at the Asshole Saint. Vincent Gilbert.
Armand was behind her and couldn’t see her expression. He could, however, see Dr. Gilbert’s. He was staring beyond Abigail Robinson. At the Chancellor.
A silence had fallen like concrete over the crowd, slowly crushing the gaiety out of the New Year’s Eve celebrations. All eyes, even Gilbert’s, were now on Abigail Robinson.
Armand heard Dominique say to her husband, “Worst party ever.”
“It gets worse,” whispered Marc. “Dad’s here and Ruth’s found the booze.”
Armand saw Annie take Idola from Olivier, while Jean-Guy put his arm around them both. Reine-Marie joined her daughter and granddaughter.
One by one Daniel, Stephen, Clara, Olivier, Ruth, Myrna surrounded Idola. As though Professor Robinson’s very thoughts could harm the little girl. And, Armand knew, they could.
“Maybe we should leave,” said Chancellor Roberge, unsettled by the mood in the room.
“Maybe…,” Debbie muttered to Abby.
“No. We’ve come too far.”
Raising her arms slightly in what looked like surrender, Abby stepped forward and broke the silence.
“I know most of you recognize me, and that this isn’t necessarily a welcome surprise. I want you to know that our hosts didn’t invite me.”
She smiled. Just as at the event, her voice was soft, reasonable. Personable. Armand could feel the tension lower.
This wasn’t the monster they’d expected. The lunatic with the crazy ideas. This was someone just like them. Nice.
“So,” said Abigail. “No need to shoot them. Just me.”
At that there was some nervous laughter.
Armand had rarely seen a crowd turned so quickly. It didn’t mean anyone there was suddenly going to join the professor’s crusade, but he could see their own defenses dropping.