Still Life (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #1) - Louise Penny Page 0,47

with your son here, or we can speak with him at the St Rémy station.’

Beauvoir paused. And paused. And in his mind dared Nichol to offer cookies. Finally he continued. ‘The rules of normal life are suspended when there’s a violent death. You two and your family are among the first casualties. I have no illusions about what we do, and we do it as painlessly as possible – ’ Matthew Croft sputtered in disgust’ – which is why I’ve offered you the choice. Now, the bows and arrows please.’

Matthew Croft took a deep breath, ‘This way.’

He led them out of the kitchen on to the screen porch.

‘Mrs Croft,’ Gamache said, and poked his head back into the kitchen just as Suzanne Croft was stepping toward the basement door, ‘would you join us, please?’

Suzanne Croft’s shoulders sagged.

‘There.’ It was all Matthew Croft could do to be civil. ‘That’s a recurve and that’s a compound, and there’re the arrows.’

‘Are these two the only bows you have?’ Beauvoir asked, picking up the arrows and noting they were the target-shooting kind.

‘Yes, they are,’ said Croft without hesitation.

They looked exactly as they had been described, only larger. Beauvoir and Gamache lifted each bow in turn. They were heavy, even the simple recurve.

‘Could you put the string on the recurve, please?’ Beauvoir asked.

Matthew grabbed the recurve, took a long string with loops on either end, put the ‘stick’ between his legs and bent the bow down until the string could reach the little notch at the top. Gamache could see it took some strength. Suddenly, there stood a ‘Robin Hood’ bow.

‘May I?’

Croft handed Gamache the bow and as he took it he noticed dust. But no dirt. Gamache then turned his attention to the compound. It looked more like a traditional bow than he’d expected. He picked it up, noticing the wisps of cobwebs between some of the strings. This bow too hadn’t been used in some time. And it was far heavier than he’d expected. He turned to Mrs Croft.

‘Do you bow hunt or target shoot?’

‘I sometimes target shoot.’

‘Which bow do you use?’

After a breath of hesitation Suzanne Croft pointed to the recurve.

‘Would you mind taking off the string?’

‘Why?’ Matthew Croft stepped forward.

‘I’d like to see your wife do it.’ Gamache turned to Suzanne, ‘Please.’

Suzanne Croft picked up the recurve, and swiftly putting it around her leg she leaned on the bow and popped the string off. She’d clearly done this many times before. Then Gamache had an idea.

‘Could you restring the bow, please?’

Suzanne shrugged and replaced the now straight bow around her leg and leaned on the upper part. Not much happened. Then she gave a huge thrust down and slipped the string over the top, recreating the recurve. She handed it to Gamache without a word.

‘Thank you,’ he said, puzzled. He’d had a hunch, but it didn’t seem to be right.

‘Would you mind if we shot a few arrows?’ Beauvoir asked.

‘Not at all.’

After putting their outside rain gear on again all five trooped into the light drizzle. Fortunately the heavy rain had let up. Matthew had put up a round archery target made of hay encased in canvas with target circles painted in red. He picked up the recurve, put a new wooden target arrow in the slot and pulled the string back. Croft spent a moment aiming then he released the arrow. It hit the second ring. Croft then handed the bow to Gamache who handed it with a slight smile to Beauvoir. Beauvoir took it with relish. He’d been raring to try it, and even daring to imagine himself getting bull’s-eye after bull’s-eye until the Canadian Archery team invited him to compete in the Olympics. This so-called sport looked like a no-brainer, especially since he was a crack shot with a gun.

The first sign of trouble came almost immediately. He almost didn’t get the string all the way back. It was far harder than he imagined. Then the arrow, held tentatively in place between two of his fingers, started jumping all over the bow, refusing to stay snug on the little peg at the front. Finally he was ready to shoot. He released the string and the arrow shot out of the bow and missed the target by a country mile. What didn’t miss was the string itself. A millisecond after being released, it hit Beauvoir’s elbow with such force he thought his arm had been severed. He yelped and dropped the bow, hardly daring to look at his arm.