Chapter Three

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"I don't understand," I said after the Captain's short-lived explanation of this new project. "We don't even have the job."

"Negative," he said. "You've already applied."

He pulled out of his desk drawer two resumes, for two people named Alexandra Rivers and Hayden St. Claire.

"Let me guess," I ventured flatly. "I'm Hayden?"

"Clever, isn't it?"

"No points for creativity," I muttered.

"We gave you a nice, waspy, high class name. Hayden St. Claire is worth a million bucks. And for all intents and purposes, you were born to wealthy socialite parents in New Haven."

"Hayden from New Haven," I considered, committing it to memory. "Well, it's classier than Kim Hayden from Brooklyn."

"And Beckett," Captain Harwood continued, evidently growing somewhat excited by this developing game of dress-up. "You grew up in a brownstone in Manhattan. Your mom's a psychiatrist, and your dad's an oncologist."

"Oncology?" Allison repeated. "That's kind of dark."

"Are you just making this up?" I asked.

"We did a lot of searches on Shaw's previous hires," the Captain explained. "The common denominator seems to be young, attractive, and wealthy."

"Well if they're so rich, what are they doing as maids?"

"Come on, Kim," Allison said. "It's Shaw Manor. When rich kids leave their parents' homes, they have no experience because they've never had to work. They need a way to get back into a life of luxury, without making the money themselves. That's a perfect way to get there."

"So these housekeepers live on the manor?"

"Absolutely," Harwood said. 

"So you want us, Kim and me, to abandon our lives here, ditch the force, and go live in a mansion with a rapist tycoon and his skanky rich kid maids?"

Harwood nodded. "Precisely."

I gave a long whistle. "Wow."

"And we already have the job?" Allison asked.

Again, he nodded. Smiling, he said, "Your resumes were very impressive. Not to mention the application asked for a photograph."

"That is sickening," I said. I already had bad feelings about Mr. Collin Shaw, not having met him once.

"Sickening maybe, but it could just be pragmatic. Shaw wants whoever's going to make him look good externally, and that could be unrelated to his own feelings towards his staff."

I picked up Beckett's fake resume and laughed. "Alexandra."

"Do I even look like an Alexandra?"

"The thing about undercover investigations is, knowing people within can be dangerous. By putting you together, I ran the risk of having you blow each other's covers. I figured that by keeping the names similar, I might reduce that risk. If you start to call Allison Allison, you have an out. And if she calls you Hayden, no harm done."

"What if I call her Kim?" Beckett challenged.

The Captain looked firmly at her. "Don't. Any other questions?"

"When do we leave?" I asked.

"Tomorrow morning," he said. "Don't be late."

***

"So you're just leaving again. Just like that."

"I'm sorry, Grace," I said, putting dresses into a suitcase. "I really am."

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