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The woman led the way inside.
Looking around, Cora saw the farmhouse’s interior had been stripped down and painted a plain white. The walls looked bare and stark. There was no hint of character or history. Just smooth, seamless whiteness and plain wooden furniture. A cabinet in the hallway seemed to act as a place for keys and outdoor footwear. Beyond was a large room that must once have been a traditional farmhouse living room but now was also decked out in that bright white with plain wooden chairs.
Pierre Maison was standing by the window. He turned as soon as Cora walked in. Today, he wasn’t wearing his robe. He was also dressed casually, in jeans and a white sweater.
“I brought my partner, Gabe,” Cora said. “He works with me.”
She wasn’t going to take no for an answer, but to her surprise, she didn’t get it.
"Thank you for coming," he said. He paused. His eyes looked shadowed, and Cora had a sudden feeling that he hadn't slept at all.
"Another of our members was found murdered early this morning," he confessed in a low voice. "I am now desperate for answers. We need them soon because I am worried that every person in the foundation is at risk."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The situation was exploding. A third murder? Cora felt a sense of unreality as she took in the news. This meant that the killer might have been on the prowl when she and Gabe were there last night. She needed information and to know the circumstances, and fast.
“What happened last night?”
"It was one of our part-time members, Tony Inkley. He got promoted recently. His ceremony was a few days ago." Pierre spoke rapidly, and Cora thought that in his shocked state, he was probably spilling out more information than he'd otherwise have done.
“And what happened to Tony?” she asked.
“He must have arrived early this morning, ready to start with the milking shift. His car was in the parking lot, and his body was lying beside a hedge a few yards from where his car was parked. As soon as someone else arrived, they saw him. He was stabbed in the chest with a pitchfork."
"Someone knew who he was and where he was," Cora said.
It was a different MO again, and she was now leaning strongly toward the killer being a man. Stabbing with a pitchfork spoke of brute strength.
"You've got someone at large in your grounds," she said. "Or else one of your followers has gone rogue. Maybe one of your inner circle?"
His face darkened. "They would never do that. Never!" he insisted.
"Okay," Cora decided. Time to get to work, to put her misgivings aside – for now, anyway. This was no senior member who'd been wearing a white gown and participating in a weird ceremony. This man was someone who'd been working as a farm hand and arriving to milk the cows. Yes, he was part of the foundation but not closely involved. He wasn't one of the elite circle. She felt this killer had crossed a line – or maybe it was just that she was perceiving the situation, and the line, differently now.
“How often do people get promoted in your foundation?” she asked. “How often would someone achieve higher status?”
“About two or three people a week,” he said. “Tony only moved up a minor level.”
“Two or three people a week. So why aren’t all of them dead? Why these people? Why Heidi and Serena and Tony?” She exchanged a glance with Gabe. “We need to figure out why they were targeted. Because if we can, it’ll help us to work out who this killer is.”
“What about getting demoted?” she asked.
"Nobody gets demoted. Once you have earned a level, you keep it. But people do leave, and they are permitted to. And yes, from time to time, we see people aren't working out, and we ask them to step away. Even if they have achieved some progress through the levels, it can occasionally be necessary, but it's usually the lower level people, or those not yet on the ladder, who are asked to leave.”
Cora didn’t miss the sense of ownership, of pride, in his voice as he spoke about the levels and the achievement. He walked his talk. Or else, he’d drunk his own Kool-Aid. She still wasn’t sure which.
“And when they are asked to leave, how do they take that?” Gabe asked quietly.
“They sometimes do take it hard,” Pierre admitted.
"What's the number of people who leave?" Gabe continued.
He thought about that, frowning slightly, tugging at the cuffs of his white sweater.
“Probably, three or four people a month end up leaving for various reasons, even if it’s just quitting the job with us.”
“Okay,” Cora said. “Get the background information together for us, please. And while you do, I’d like to check out this estate, take a look for this killer, and see if he's hiding anywhere obvious or if there are any signs that people might have seen. We're going to need to do it discreetly. Can you loan us a couple of white tops, seeing that's what seems to be worn here?"
