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.
Ruth held Rosa’s head gently in the hollow of her shoulder, shaped especially, it seemed, for a sensitive duck.
Once they’d left, Armand stood beside the fireplace. At eye level with his friends, neighbors, family. Intensely aware of the children, including his own grandchildren, now awake and watching. Listening.
Armand Gamache was also very aware that he might be in the company of the person who’d done this. He scanned the faces, looking into the eyes of Haniya Daoud. Vincent Gilbert.
Stephen.
Not that long ago his godfather had joked that elderly people made perfect murderers.
“Life in prison isn’t much of a threat, or deterrent.” Stephen had laughed. But Armand knew him well enough to know he also meant it.
To protect Idola, and all the Idolas unborn, would this elderly man kill?
And Armand knew the answer. Stephen Horowitz might very well be the most dangerous person in the room. Kind, generous, brilliant. Ruthless, determined, and skilled. And with nothing to lose.
But kill Debbie Schneider? A woman, as far as Armand knew, he’d never met. Why?
Why would any of them kill her?
The answer was clear. They hadn’t. The murderer had killed Abigail Robinson, or thought they had.
He cleared his throat, still raw from the icy cold, and described in words that would not scare children, but that adults would understand, that someone had died and they needed to find out why.
“I’m sorry, but you won’t be allowed to go home just yet. We’ll need to speak with each of you. We’ll start with parents of the youngest children and work our way up. I hope it won’t take too long.”
He thanked them for their understanding. Before he could leave, Reine-Marie approached him.
“Do you mind if I take Ruth and Stephen home? Then I’ll come back.”
Armand looked over at them. Both looked worn, drained. He nodded. “Good idea. I’ll speak with them tomorrow.”
Beauvoir had had a word with Annie, and then joined Gamache and Dr. Harris in the foyer. “I was just outside. The agents assigned to protect Professor Robinson followed them here and stayed in the car. They didn’t see anyone approach or leave the Inn.”
“Professor Robinson?” Gamache asked.
“In the library with Chancellor Roberge.”
“Bon.” Gamache drew them further aside and turned to the coroner. “Tell us what you found.”
“Barring any surprises during the autopsy, I can tell you that death was due to blunt force trauma. I’d say one catastrophic blow to the back of her head, driving skull shards into her brain. It looks like death was immediate. There wasn’t much bleeding. Two more blows were struck after she’d fallen, pushing her face deeper into the snow. I’m assuming you haven’t found the weapon.”
“Not yet,” Beauvoir confirmed. “Any ideas?”
“I’d look for a log,” said the coroner. “There were traces of bark and dirt on the tuque, and the shape of the wound corresponds to firewood.”
She made a wedge with her hands.
“Oh,” said Gamache. It came out as a sort of grunt.
He was afraid of that.
“What?” asked Dr. Harris.
But Jean-Guy knew. He’d immediately thought the same thing. Both men looked through the living room and past the French doors.
“There was a bonfire,” said Gamache. “I think our murder weapon’s gone up in smoke.”
“Time of death?” Beauvoir asked the coroner.
“In this cold, it’s hard to say, but I’d guess an hour and a half, two hours.”
They checked the time. It was three minutes after two in the morning.
“So around midnight?” asked Beauvoir.
“Roughly, yes. Armand, the woman who was so upset, that was Abigail Robinson, wasn’t it? She’s the professor who was shot at yesterday. I saw her in the news.”
“Yes. The dead woman was her best friend.”
“Tough few days for her.”
Gamache considered the coroner for a moment. “Sharon, how would doctors feel about mandatory euthanasia? And terminating all pregnancies with defects?”
“You mean the things Professor Robinson’s promoting?”
Dr. Harris considered. This surprised Gamache. He’d expected an immediate condemnation.
“‘Appalled’ is the word. But then many were initially appalled with physician-assisted suicide. But once it became law, we got used to it. We can even see the virtue in it, to ease suffering.”
They were walking toward the front door as they spoke.
“It’s the mandatory aspect that’s troubling,” she said. “To say the least. It seems inconceivable that any government would allow what she’s suggesting.”
“We’ve seen a lot of the inconceivable lately. Merci,” he said, shaking her hand.
“I won’t wish you happy new year,” she said.
“Ahh, it’s always worth wishing. Bonne année, Sharon.”
Dr. Harris watched them walk grim-faced down the corridor, to do the very worst part of a job rife with terrible deeds. Then she walked into the night, the new year biting at her flesh.
CHAPTER 21
Not surprisingly, the library was lined with bookshelves. A worn oriental rug was on the floor, and the room was furnished with old leather chairs and a deep green velvet sofa.
Gamache nodded toward the French doors, and Beauvoir crossed the room.
“Locked,” he reported.
Despite the fact the fire had been reduced to ash and a few embers, the room was pleasantly warm.
Abigail got to her feet when they entered. Chancellor Roberge stood beside her, a hand on her arm.
Gamache knew there was no gentle way to put this and trying would only prolong the agony. It was best to be quick, clear, though not, if possible, brutal.
He was also aware that he was simply confirming what Abigail Robinson already knew. But that did not diminish the pain of what he was about to say.
“A body has been found in the woods.” He paused a beat and dropped his voice. “I’m sorry. It’s Deborah Schneider. She’s dead.”
Abigail tensed and lowered her head, turning it away slightly. She squeezed her eyes shut, as though hit by a particularly bitter gust.
Then she lifted them to Gamache. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Abigail compressed her lips and steadied herself, lifting her chin slightly.
“Thank you. I know this must be difficult for you…” Her voice trailed off, but her eyes remained fixed on Gamache.
Beauvoir, who loathed what this woman stood for, quickly searched his feelings for any sign of pleasure at her pain, and found none.
“Please,” he said, indicating the sofa. “Sit.”
The Sûreté officers dragged up chairs, so they were within feet of them.
“Did Madame Schneider have family?” Beauvoir asked. “Someone who should be notified?”
“Oh, God. Her parents. And a brother. They’re all out west. Should I…?”
“We’ll arrange for them to be told,” Beauvoir said, and saw her relief. “But we will need their address and phone number if you have them. With social media, these things get out.”
“Of course,” said Abigail and fumbled for her phone. She gave them the information.
“Can you tell me how?”
“Not yet.” Jean-Guy hesitated a moment before saying the next part. “Only that it was no accident.”
Both he and Gamache watched closely for a reaction. It wasn’t hard to see.
Now both Abigail’s and Colette’s mouths dropped open. But nothing came out. Not even, it seemed, breath.
“Meaning?” Colette Roberge finally managed.
“Meaning Debbie Schneider was killed,” said Gamache.
“Killed?” whispered Colette. “Murdered?”