Programmed for Peril

did I decide to tell you my problems? You don’t even care—”
    “Hey, I just asked a question, okay?”
    “His name is Foster Palmer. I don’t think I have time to describe him. He’s a wonderful guy.”
    “Every fiancé is wonderful. Then he becomes a husband.”
    “What do you know about it? You ever married?”
    He shook his head. “Single’s the way for me to go.” He looked up at her, grinning. “Things don’t work out in your marriage, you can always look me up.”
    Just like an Italian, she thought. All macho talk. I’m the greatest lover in the world. And I want to spread it around. Then some woman gets him by the ear, and he rolls over at home like a puppy. She wrinkled her nose. “Thanks just the same. I’m sure Foster and I will be quite happy.”
    He shrugged. “So what about this DeVita guy?”
    She explained how she couldn’t read him but feared him just the same. Throwing some caution aside, she told Dino she very much wanted to know her competitor’s background. Possibly he was connected with the mob. If that was the case, she would have to take him more seriously. She flashed a tight smile. “Do you think you could... maybe find out?” She shrugged. “I mean if you grew up here and all.”
    “I been away,” Dino said.
    “I don’t know what to do. I can’t prove anything to the police—as he reminded me.”
    “Cops.” He shrugged. “Forget cops.”
    “Easy for you to say. So you don’t want to help me—”
    “I didn’t say I wouldn’t.” He opened the screen door to the bakery’s rear. “I know just what to do. And I’ll do it.”
    “What, Dino?”
    “Talk to him. Man to man.”
    “Will you do that? I’d appreciate it. I really would.”
    He turned away. “Hang on a second.” He disappeared into the hot gloom and came out a moment later with a white bag. He shoved it toward her. “Take.” She took it. “A couple apple tarts for your bambina,” he growled.
    “The way to a girl’s heart is through her stomach. Anything apple, she goes crazy. Thanks, Dino.”
    She drove home wondering if the baker would have any success dealing with Rocco. Both were odd men, that was certain.
    Melody would have gulped down both tarts at one sitting Trish had let her. The child’s passion for pastry was astonishing by itself. Adding in apple turned her gluttonous. Witness the wicked powers of the apple: Eve, Snow White, and now Melody. “Number two is for tomorrow, sweet. Understand your mother on this. We’re talking sugar overload here.”
    On Wednesday afternoon the phone rang. Dino’s heavy voice rasped down the line. “We talked man to man. Me and that—” He used an Italian word that sounded derogatory.
    Trish pressed the receiver closer to her ear. She was reminded how tense she had become in recent days. “What did you think?”
    “He’s not your problem. He’s not man enough.”
    Trish frowned. She remembered Rocco and his cigar very, well. He hadn’t seemed benign to her. “You sure?”
    “We talked. I tested him.”
    Something told her not to ask him just how he had done it. “Then... who’s causing problems for my business?”
    “Dunno. But you can forget Rocco DeVita. I convinced him he oughta be nice to you, Patricia, from here on out.”
    “How in the world did you do that?”
    “We sat down and reasoned together.”
    She recognized some kind of movie or real-life euphemism in his words. She wondered if his handsome face was split by a grin of satisfaction. It sounded so. She thanked him and said she owed him a favor. Of course he made a ribald suggestion. She hung up laughing.
    Her good mood fled quickly. Dino’s certainty had convinced her that Rocco had been bluffing. With her only suspect eliminated, she was left in a deepening cloud of menace. That night she woke with a start, a cry on her lips.
    In her dream she had been bound with velvet ropes, at Carson’s mercy once again. She had begged him for both pity and pleasure. She rolled over and sat up. Tears wet her cheeks. She had hoped those nightmares were forever in the past. She looked at the digital clock. Four-ten.
    She got up and crept to Melody’s bedroom. The child dreamed under her Kermit quilt. She crossed the room, f bent, and kissed the smooth cheek. May your dreams always; be far sweeter than mine, she thought.
    She didn’t sleep again. She made a pot of coffee and watched cool dawn break over the high hedge. She left for work even earlier than usual with no