Chapter 8 Chapter VII

The chair next to Bishop Philip was empty. For decades, the Dean looked to his right in the church.Mathieu is no longer there. At this moment, he didn't look to the right, but calmly looked straight ahead, looking at the faces of the monks in St. Gilbert's Abbey. They were looking at him too. Everyone is waiting for an answer. Looking forward to information. Expect comfort. Expect him to say something, anything. Keep them from fear. And he just stared at everyone intently, silent.Over the years, he has held back too many unspoken words in his heart.He felt like a warehouse full of thoughts, opinions, emotions, and so many unspoken things.

But now when he wanted to say something, he found that the warehouse was empty, dark and cold. Couldn't find a word to say. Inspector Garmash leaned forward, arms resting on the battered wooden table, hands folded carelessly. He looked at Beauvoir and Chief Charbonneau.Both of them had taken out their notebooks, ready to report the situation to him. After examining the corpses, they went to question all the monks, collected their fingerprints, and obtained preliminary statements, their reactions, impressions, and information revealed by their speech and behavior. Meanwhile, Inspector Garmash went to search the house of the deceased.It was almost exactly the same layout as the dean's room.It's the same narrow bed and the same wardrobe, except that Saint Cecilia is enshrined on the altar.Gamache had never heard of the saint, but he decided to pay his respects anyway.

There is a change of robes, underwear and shoes in the room, as well as pajamas, prayer books and pamphlets.Other than that, nothing else.Not a single personal item.There are no photographs and no letters.He appears to have no parents or siblings.In his eyes, perhaps God is the father, and the Virgin Mary is the mother.The monks of the monastery were his brothers.This is one big family. However, there are quite a lot of things in the vice president's office.Unfortunately, nothing useful was found there either.There are no blood-stained stones, no signed threatening letters, and no criminals waiting to confess.

Garmash found a used quill and an open bottle of ink on the vice-principal's desk.He bagged pens and ink bottles and put them in his knapsack, along with other evidence he had collected. This seems to be the main take away.After all, the old scraps of paper that fell out of the vice-principal's robes were written with a quill pen dipped in ink.However, the more Garmash thought about it, the more he felt uncertain about what these physical evidences could prove. Why would a vice-principal, choirmaster, and world authority on Gregorian chant write such inexplicable things?Even the dean and the doctor couldn't understand the Latin and Nyum notes.

It was more like the work of uneducated, untrained amateurs. Moreover, it was written on very old paper.The parchment, stretched dry, may have been hundreds of years ago.There is a lot of paper on the vice president's desk, but no parchment. However, just in case, Garmash carefully put the quill and ink bottle into the bag and marked it. He also found a lot of music, sheet music. There are also many books on music and music history, and dissertations on music.It seems that although Mathieu believes in Catholicism, he is not limited to chanting scriptures. There was only one thing he loved, and that was Gregorian chant.

On the wall is a simple cross with crucified Jesus crucified.Below and around the crucifix, there is a sea of ​​music. This is Mathieu's passion.It is not Christ who carries him soaring, but the psalm which carries him soaring.It may be that Christ inspired Mathieu, but he was to the tune of the Gregorian chant. Gamache had no idea that he had written so many monophonic hymns, or that monophonic hymns could produce so many tunes.However, in order to remain objective, so far, he has not thought much about it.The inspector sat firmly behind the desk and began to read, waiting for Beauvoir and Charbonneau to come back.

The office is full of old socks and smelly shoes, as well as the dusty smell of piles of documents. It is not at all like the place where the air is clean and ventilated.There is life in the office.It seems that the vice president just sleeps in his own small single room, but his daily life is here.Armand Garmache began to look at Mathieu.He was a monk, a conductor, maybe a genius, but above all a normal human being. Beauvoir and Charbonneau are finally back.Garmash turned his attention to them. "What did you find?" Garmash looked at Beauvoir first. "Nothing, boss. Anyway, I didn't find the murder weapon."

"I expected that," said the Inspector, "but we must try. When we get the autopsy report, we will know whether the murder weapon was a stone or something else. Where are the monks?" "Fingerprints were taken," Beauvoir said, "and a preliminary interview was conducted. After the morning prayer at 7:30, they went to work separately as usual. At present," Beauvoir checked the records, "the monastery There are four main areas of work, vegetable garden, livestock breeding, repair and maintenance of the monastery, which is endless, and the kitchen. The monks perform their duties, but they sometimes rotate. We have determined the key time periods for each person What are you doing?"

While listening to the report, Garmash thought, at least, the time of death was quite clear, between 8:15 after morning prayers and 8:40 when Simon found the body. 25 minutes of crime time. "Find anything suspicious?" he asked. The two shook their heads. "They were all working during this time," Charbonneau said. "There were witnesses." "But that's impossible," said Garmache calmly. "Mathieu didn't commit suicide. Some of these monks must have not done their job. At least, I hope this murder is not among their assigned tasks." List."

Beauvoir raised an eyebrow.He thought the inspector was joking, but such a joke seemed questionable. "Let's think of other ways," the inspector suggested. "Have any monks mentioned conflicts or something? Is anyone against the vice-principal?" "No, sir," Chief Charbonneau said. "At least, no one has admitted there's been a confrontation. They all look terrified. 'Unbelievable' is a word that pops up every now and then." Agent Beauvoir shook his head, "They believe that virgins can give birth to children, that people can be resurrected after death, that people can walk on water, and that there is an old man with a white beard in the sky who rules the world, but they can't believe it?"

Gamash was silent for a moment, then nodded. "It's really interesting," he said. "People choose to believe things all the time." They also do so in the name of faith. How did the murderous monk reconcile the murder with his belief?What would he say when he was alone with the old man with the white beard floating in the sky? That day, the inspector was puzzled more than once: why the monastery was built in such a wild place, why it built such a thick wall, why the wall was so high, and why the gate was locked. Is it to keep out the evils of the world?Or is it to lock up deeper sins? "Then," said the Inspector, "according to the monks, there is no conflict at all." "Yes." Commissioner Charbonneau replied. "Someone must be lying," said Beauvoir, "or everyone must be lying." "There is another possibility," said Gamash.He picked up the yellow page from the middle of the table, looked at it closely, lowered it after a moment, and looked into their faces. "Perhaps, the murderer himself had nothing to do with the vice president. Perhaps, they really didn't have any conflicts. Perhaps, it was because of this that he was killed." The inspector put the paper back on the table, and the corpse reappeared in his mind, just like the first time he saw it, curled up in a dark corner in the bright garden.He didn't realize it then, but now he understood that the core of the body was the paper, just as the core of the peach is the almond. Is this the motive for the murder? "Did the monks notice anything unusual this morning?" Garmash asked. "No. Everyone seems to be doing their part." The inspector nodded and thought for a while, "What about Mathieu? What should he be doing?" "He's supposed to be here, in his study, studying music," said Beauvoir, "and that's what's interesting about this. Simon, the abbot's assistant, said he'd go back to the abbot's as soon as morning prayers were over." office, and then went to feed the poultry, but he stopped here." "Why?" Garmash sat forward and took off his glasses. "He came to convey a message that the dean would like to see the vice-principal after the 11 o'clock mass." Beauvoir's words sounded a bit strange.The dean, the vice-principal, and the monks.Oh, my god. These words have faded from Quebecers' vision and are no longer part of everyday life.In just one generation, the vocabulary has gone from respectful to comical, and will soon disappear altogether. God might be on the side of the monks, Beauvoir thought, but time would not. "Simon said that when he went to inform the deputy dean, there was no one in the house." "It should be around 8:20," the inspector said, and wrote it down. "I'm curious why the dean wants to see the deputy dean." "What did you say?" Inspector Beauvoir asked. "The victim was the dean's right-hand man. There appeared to be regular work meetings between him and the dean, just like the two of us." Beauvoir nodded.He and the detective meet every morning at 8 a.m. to review the events of the previous day and review all recent homicides the department has investigated. But the monastery and the criminal investigation team of the police station probably have different styles, as do the differences between the dean and the inspector. However, the idea that the dean and associate dean would meet on a regular basis is still preferable. "That means," said Beauvoir, "that the abbot probably wants to talk to the vice abbot this time about something other than the daily affairs of the monastery." "Yes. It may be urgent, unexpected, sudden." "Then why didn't the vice-principal go to see him right away?" asked Beauvoir. "Why did he have to wait until after mass at 11 o'clock?" Garmash thought, "That's a good question." "Also, the vice president didn't return to his office after morning prayer, so where did he go?" "Maybe he went straight to the garden," Charbonneau said. "It is possible," said the Inspector. "Then why didn't Simon, the dean's assistant, see him?" Beauvoir asked, "I didn't meet him in the corridor?" "Perhaps he saw it," said the inspector, and whispered to Beauvoir in a low voice. "He may have lied to you." Beauvoir also whispered loudly: "A monk? Lying? He is not afraid of going to hell." He looked at Gamache with an exaggerated expression, and then smiled. Garmache laughed too, and rubbed his face.They are gathering a lot of evidence and there should be very few lies. "Keep talking about Simon," said Garmash. "What did he do this morning?" "Well, he said so himself," Beauvoir flipped through the notebook quickly, and stopped after turning a page. "After morning prayer, at 8:15, he returned to the dean's office. The dean asked him to Went to make an appointment with the vice president, set to meet after the 11 o'clock mass. After that, the president went to check the geothermal situation, and he went to feed the livestock. When passing by the vice president's office, he stopped and took a look inside. The vice president No. He's gone." "Did he wonder then?" asked Garmache. "I don't seem to be surprised, and I don't care too much about it. The deputy dean, like the dean, is basically free to come and go." Garmash pondered for a moment, "What did Simon do later?" "He was working around the livestock facility for about 20 minutes before going back to the superintendent's office to clean the garden. That's when he found the body." "Can we be sure that Simon went to the stockyards?" asked the Inspector. Beauvoir nodded, "I've checked, and other monks saw him there." "Will he leave early?" Garmash asked again. "At eight-thirty, for example." "I thought so too," Beauvoir laughed. "The monks working there said it was possible. They were busy at the time. But it was difficult for Simon to finish the work in such a short time, and he The work is done." "What kind of work did he do?" asked Garmash. "He released the chickens, gave them fresh food and water, and cleaned the coops. It's not just a show." Garmash made a note and nodded to himself, "When we arrived at the dean's office, the door was locked. Is it usually locked?" Beauvoir and Charbonneau looked at each other. "I don't know, sir," said Beauvoir, taking notes, "I'll find out." "very good." Obviously this is important.If the door of the dean's office is usually locked, then someone has to open the door for the deputy dean when he comes. "Is there anything else to say?" Garmache asked, looking over Beauvoir and Charbonneau. "Nope," Beauvoir said, "I just tried to hook up this rooster and it didn't work." He waved in disgust at the satellite dish he'd brought all the way from Montreal. Garmash took a deep breath.That's a blow to remote investigations.Because of the wilderness here, they brought their state-of-the-art equipment, only to be surprised to find it unusable. "I'll keep trying," Beauvoir said. "There are no towers here, and our cell phones don't work, but the BlackBerry can still receive text messages." Garmash looked at the time. It was just after 4 o'clock, and there was still an hour before the boatman left.Homicide investigations never allow for slow work, but this case seems to be more urgent.They had to finish before the sun went down, and in time for the boatman to set off. Once the sun went down, they would all have to stay in the monastery, and the evidence and the bodies couldn't be taken out, which Inspector Garmash didn't want. Bishop Philip crossed the monks, and the monks followed suit. He sat down immediately, and they sat down too.They imitated his every movement, like his shadow.Or like his children, he thought.To say it was his children was kinder, and probably more accurate. Although some of the monks were older than the abbot, he was their father, their leader. He is far from being convincingly a very good leader, at least certainly not as good as Mathieu.However, all they have right now is him. "As you know, Mathieu died," began the Abbot, "without warning." But it got off to a bad start.More words appeared in my mind, constantly changing combinations, and they were about to spew out. "He was killed." After a pause, he came to a conclusion again. "It was murder." Let's pray, he thought, let's pray.Let's chant, let's close our eyes, sing hymns, and forget ourselves.Let's keep singing, let's go back to our rooms and let the police deal with this mess. But now is not the time to back down, nor is it time to chant one-voice hymns.Now is the time to be open and honest. "The police are here. They have interviewed most of you. We must cooperate. We must tell the truth. That means allowing them access to our homes and workplaces to investigate and allowing them access to our mind and heart.” As he said these strange words, he noticed a few people nodded, and then more people started nodding.Faces hiding panic are gradually replaced by understanding, even approval. Should he go on?Almighty Lord, he murmured, shall I go on?Apparently that's enough.Does anything else really need to be said?Is there anything else I need to do? "I now announce the lifting of the oath of silence." Everyone took a sharp breath.The monks looked as if he had just stripped them naked, exposed. "We have to do this. You can say what you want, but not to spread rumors and gossip, but to help officers find out the truth." Now anxiety is written all over their faces.They stared into his eyes, trying to meet his glance. It pained him to see their fear, but he knew it was far more natural than seeing their defensive, empty expressions before. Then the Dean made the last irreversible step. "Someone in the monastery killed Mathieu," Bishop Philippe said, feeling himself jump.He knew that what was said could not be taken back, "Someone here killed Mathieu." He tried to comfort them, but all he did was strip them naked and scare them. "One of us must repent."