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Dash was alone in the Teller, Holmes, and Associates office ignoring paperwork in favor of a fifteenth game of computer solitaire and the stash of Thin Mints he’d liberated from the secret hidden compartment in Marshall’s desk in a triumph that was only somewhat lessened by the note he’d discovered at the bottom of the box reading DASH, WHEN YOU FIND THIS YOU OWE ME $3 – M. when she walked in.
She was dressed in red to match her out-of-the-bottle dye job, sporting high-heeled boots and a leather jacket over a catsuit Dash had to admit she was managing to pull off nicely for a woman now on the wrong side of sixty.
His eyes traveled up to meet her expensive sunglasses, which she removed as she smiled seductively at him. “Tinsel Top,” she said. “Long time, no see.”
“Eunice,” he replied. “You’re looking lovely, as always. And, no.”
“I need your—" she began.
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I—"
“No.”
She sighed, and reached into her not-inconsiderable cleavage. Dash watched as she pulled out a roll of bills and peeled off a couple of hundreds. “Interested now?”
He considered. “That’ll buy you a fifteen minute consultation.” He took the money, pocketed it, and gestured to the empty chair on the other side of the desk.
She sat down, crossed her legs, and assumed a pitiful expression that didn’t suit her. “My husband is missing.”
“Again?” said Dash. “I’m shocked. What did you do this time?”
“What makes you think I had anything to do with it?”
Dash raised an eyebrow. “Clock’s ticking. So what was it, another Brainalyzer?”
“Of course not,” she said. “Charles and I agreed—eventually—that intelligence augmentation is far too dangerous a field of research. No, Charles had begun studying emotions. Researching possible cures for affective disorders.”
Eunice reached into her jacket. Dash tensed. The hand he’d kept out of view tightened around the other item he’d liberated from Marshall’s desk when she'd walked through the door, tagged #8,490: Paralysis Ray (Poss. Extraterrestrial).
She pulled out something that looked like a cross between the megavolt zapper she’d brandished at their first meeting and a small purple hairdryer.
“That’s when he invented this. The Soothinator.”
Dash blinked. “The what now?”
“It changes the brain’s fear response to sensory input. Basically, turn the dial this way,” she said and demonstrated, “and activating it instantly calms your subject. Turn it the other way, the fear gets cranked up to eleven.”
“Yeah, because there’s no way that could be used for nefarious purposes,” Dash said. “So why am I not feeling particularly calm right now? Or for that matter, cowering in terror?”
“You don’t actually think I would use this on you?” asked Eunice, sounding wounded. “Please. You’re like a son to me.”
Dash just looked at her.
“It’s a non-functioning prototype,” she admitted.
“Let me guess. You were making arrangements to sell it to the highest bidder when Charles found out, and one day you got home to find he had disappeared, along with the working model and all his notes.”
“I was making a small side arrangement with a group that was only going to use the technology for the very best reasons and in return would have paid us enough to ensure a comfortable retirement,” said Eunice. “But essentially, yes.”
“So do you want my help getting your husband back or getting back his latest invention?”
She looked confused. “Well, both.”
Dash shook his head. “Pick one, Eunice. You keep thinking someday you’ll make him see reason and you’ll both live happily ever after in luxury, but it’ll never work. Charles wants to help save the world. You want to help rule it. It’s a classic ‘your career or mine’ situation.”
“So what am I supposed to do then?” She took one of Dash’s Thin Mints without asking and ate it. “Stay home and bake cookies?”
“I don’t know, take up a hobby? One that doesn’t involve constant spousal betrayal? Or just accept you won’t keep him.”
“Sweetie,” Eunice leaned across the desk and mussed Dash’s hair as he tried not to flinch. “I don’t need relationship advice from a prematurely grey twenty-something.”
Dash shrugged.
“Besides, it’s not like you’re so very happy,” she continued.
“I’m not?”
“We could make a great team, you and I,” she said, caressing his cheek. “We could be out there making a fortune. Instead you’re in here, living in squalor, being kept on a short leash by that insufferable, self-righteous...”
Dash laughed. “He can keep me on whatever leash he wants me on. You know that. As far as teaming up, we both know the biggest reason I’ll never say yes to that isn’t Marshall. It’s you.”
She pulled back. “Oh?”
“You’re a bad woman in love with a good man, Eunice. It means you’ll talk yourself into snatching defeat from the jaws of victory every time.”
“I’ve never loved Charles…”
“So why did you let him destroy the Brainalyzer ten years ago?”
“I—“
“I mean, you could have taken it and run the second you had Eerie and us meddling kids in your rearview,” Dash continued. “Instead you gave up everything you said you wanted for another chance to make your marriage work. Why?”
Eunice was silent.
“Time’s up,” Dash noted.
She slumped back. “I just want to talk to him again. Please?”
Dash started to say no, then thought about second chances.
“This is exactly why I should never be left in charge of this place,” he muttered. “Fine. We’ll find him. It’ll be triple the standard rate.”
“Double.”
“Eunice, consider the length of the argument I’m about to have instead of sex tonight for agreeing to help you out. Now ask yourself exactly how much leverage you have to negotiate here.”
“Fine,” she said. “Whatever you want.” She took another cookie.
Dash put the paralysis ray back in the desk and took out a pen and paper. “So when did you last see your husband?”