‘A hunter’s bow is called a compound and it’s made from alloys.’
‘Alloy?’ Gamache asked. ‘That’s metal of some sort. I thought they were wood.’
‘They used to be,’ agreed Matthew.
‘Some still are,’ someone called from the crowd to general laughter.
‘They’re mocking me, Inspector,’ admitted Ben. ‘When I set up the archery club it was with old bows and arrows. The traditional recurve sort—’
‘Robin Hood,’ someone called, again to some chuckles.
‘And his merry men,’ Gabri chimed in, pleased with his contribution. More quiet chuckles, but Gabri didn’t hear them, he was concentrating on getting Olivier’s vice-like grip off his leg.
‘It’s true,’ continued Ben. ‘When Peter and I started the club we had a fascination with Robin Hood, and cowboys and Indians. We used to dress up.’ Beside him, Peter groaned and Clara snorted at the long-forgotten memory of these two friends stalking the forests, in green tights and ski toques doubling as medieval caps. They were in their mid-twenties at the time. Clara also knew that sometimes, when they thought no one was watching, Peter and Ben still did it.
‘So we only used wooden recurve bows and wooden arrows,’ said Ben.
‘What do you use now, Mr Hadley?’
‘The same bows and arrows. Saw no reason to change. We only use it for target shooting out behind the schoolhouse.’
‘So let me get this straight. Modern bows and arrows are made of some metal or other. The old ones are wood, right?’
‘Right.’
‘Would an arrow go through a body?’
‘Yes, right through,’ said Matthew.
‘But, well, Mr Hadley, you talked about cowboys and Indians. In all those old movies the arrows stay in the body.’
‘Those movies weren’t actually real,’ said Matthew. Behind him Gamache heard Beauvoir give a brief laugh. ‘Believe me, an arrow would go straight through a person.’
‘Alloy and wood?’
‘Yup. Both.’
Gamache shook his head. Another myth exploded. He wondered if the church knew. But at least they had an answer to the exit wound puzzle, and it was now more certain than ever that Jane Neal had been killed by an arrow. But where was it?
‘How far would the arrow go?’
‘Humm, that’s a good question. Ten, fifteen feet.’
Gamache looked at Beauvoir and nodded. The arrow would have gone right through her chest, out her back and flown into the woods behind. Still, they’d searched there and found nothing.
‘Would it be hard to find?’
‘Not really. If you’re an experienced hunter you know exactly where to look. It’ll be sticking up from the ground a bit, and the feathering makes it slightly easier. Arrows are expensive, Inspector, so we always look for them. Becomes second nature.’
‘The coroner found a few slivers of real feathers in the wound. What could that mean?’ Gamache was surprised to see the hubbub created by his simple statement. Peter was looking at Ben who was looking confused. Everyone, in fact, seemed to suddenly pop into activity.
‘If it was an arrow then it could only be an old arrow, a wooden one,’ said Peter.
‘Wouldn’t you find real feathers on an alloy arrow?’ Gamache was asking, finally feeling like he was getting a grasp on the subject.
‘No.’
‘So. Forgive me for going over the ground several times, I just need to be sure. Since there were real feathers in the wound we’re talking about a wooden arrow. Not alloy, but wood.’
‘Right,’ half the congregation spoke up, sounding like a revival meeting.
‘And,’ said Gamache, edging another small step forward in the case, ‘not a target-shooting arrow, like the archery club uses, but a hunting arrow? We know that because of the shape of the wound.’ He pointed to the drawing. Everyone nodded. ‘It would have to have been a wooden arrow with a hunting tip. Can you use wooden hunting arrows with the new alloy bows?’
‘No,’ said the congregation.
‘So it would have to be a wooden bow, right?’
‘Right.’