On Her Mistress's Private Service

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Detective Pam Larsson snapped her latex gloves on. “Tip came through this morning. Neighbor noticed a housekeeper who didn’t add up. New girl. Never leaves. Always dressed the same. Thought it was weird enough to call it in. Almost certainly one of the Governess’s.”

A uniformed officer led them inside. The homeowner, a red-faced man in a crisp polo, bristled. “This is ridiculous. That girl is my housemaid. Paid cash up front to an agency.”

Finn ignored him, eyes snagging on the figure dusting the mantelpiece. She moved slowly, deliberately, like a doll, her black uniform pristine. “Good afternoon,” she intoned hollowly. “May I refresh your tea?”

Lowering his voice, Finn stepped closer. “Miss… can you tell us your name?”

The maid tilted her head. Her painted lips twitched. For a second her eyes glazed, fogged over. Then, mechanically bright: “My name is Lydia. May I refresh your tea?”

Pam approached, inspecting closely. Faint puncture marks on her arms betrayed hormone injections. A brass necklace rested against her throat: Property of M.G. Pam’s stomach sank. She mouthed to Finn: Miss Governess. “Lydia,” Pam said gently, “who gave you that necklace?”

The maid’s porcelain smile cracked. “Mistress gave it. She said… to wear it always. To keep me safe.”

“Does Mistress visit you here?” Pam pressed.

Lydia’s lips trembled, her eyes flickered, then her expression snapped back into doll-like cheer. “Mistress is everywhere. Mistress sees through me. Mistress knows when I am good.”

Pam watched Lydia’s trembling hands, then looked to Finn. An idea — terrible but brilliant — formed. “We can’t use her. She’s too far gone. She can’t improvise. The Governess would see right through it.”

Finn frowned. “So what then? Surveillance? Wait until the Governess strolls in here with a shopping list?”

Pam flipped the brass tag over in her gloved hand. “We insert someone new. Someone she doesn’t know. Someone who can pass as ‘in training.’”

Finn’s jaw dropped. “You want me to become...that! And hope she comes knocking?”

Pam’s eyes never wavered. “Not hope. Plan. Dress you, condition you just enough to pass her tests, but with safeguards — hypnosis resistance, controlled dosing, signal trackers. You’re bait — bait she can’t resist.”Pam leaned closer, lowering her voice. “It’s the only way we get close before more guys disappear. You know it.”

Finn glared at the painted doll curtsying in the corner. Finally, he muttered, “You’d better not enjoy this too much.”

Pam smirked faintly. “Oh, I absolutely will. But only because it will work!”