Programmed for Peril

lived her life according to her own improvised principles. Only recently had she come to lament where that ad hoc ethical system had taken her. How often would she be reminded that she wasn’t as smart as she thought? She hoped not too often. It always resulted in embarrassment—or worse.
    No matter that Carson closed in on her life in ever-diminishing circles, she was still a mother. She had promised Melody mother-daughter mini-vacations. The girl still had to be driven places when Grandma and Stoneman Gore weren’t available. She still had to be readied for picnics and sleepovers and supported during two weeks of day camp.
    Foster, too, needed careful care and feeding of quite a different kind. She told him about her nearly fatal run-in with the road roller. He understood her terror, and through it he set a finer gauge on Carson’s obsession. He was too much the gentleman to dwell on his dissatisfactions. A sailing race took him away on the Emerald Lady for nearly two weeks, reducing tensions and allowing her to gather emotional strength. She was glad she had taught him a lesson about trying to sexually dominate her. It was just so wrong for both of them!
    PC-Pros turned as demanding as a sulking lover. Fallout from Carson’s sabotage spread. Lester O’Day of Pristine Cleaners closed his account in favor of another vendor. Louise O’Day, her attorney, had politely insisted she be given a substantial retainer. Dynamited Kandinsky Klein and Corman was pressing its suit. Since Mr. Beetlebrow had told her his bank wouldn’t give Trish another loan, she was 1 keeping PC-Pros afloat financially by dipping into her own savings. She buried herself in budgeting and long-range planning because she wouldn’t accept the possibility that the business might fail.
    She worked out a sales strategy with Samantha Swords. The brassy woman did wonders for Trish’s own self-confidence. Of course things were going to be all right, Samantha said. How could PC-Pros not fly with both of them on board? Sam stood and waved her beefy arms as though trying to take off. Trish burst into laughter and clapped her hands. A little humor was a rare thing lately.
    The phone warbled. She picked it up. Michelle was sending a call through. “Somebody from police headquarters,” she said.
    “Trish Morley speaking.”
    “Feeling crushed? Cancel the wedding!”
    That voice! The one that had been tormenting her for weeks. Not Carson’s voice, though. Whose? “I won’t!”
    “You should. Do your chubby saleslady a favor.” He hung up.
    Samantha was staring at her. “Trish! Your face. You look like a compulsive blood donor.”
    Trish sank back in her chair. “Another threat.”
    Samantha scowled. “Can’t the cops catch that nut?”
    “He... mentioned you.”
    “Oh?” Sam was interested.
    Trish had spared her staff the details when discussing the recent troubles. She concentrated on events and avoided providing specifics about Carson’s personality and obsession. They knew about the bugging, the virus, the exploding PC, and the road roller. And that someone wanted her to cancel her wedding. Just the same, there was distancing between them and the magnitude of Carson’s madness. Now that would end.
    “What did he say about me?” Samantha’s hands were on her hips. She looked solid, unflappable.
    “Nothing specific. Sam, I—”
    “Don’t worry, Trish. I won’t cut and run.”
    “There’s no reason for you to get tangled up in this. Why don’t you take some time off, go away for a couple weeks?”
    “What? We just finished working out our sales strategy. I don’t remember there being any vacations scheduled.”
    “Sam, he can be... dangerous.”
    The big woman snorted and made a fist. “I’ll take my chances,” she said.
    “I want you to be careful!” Trish surprised herself with the volume of her warning. Her voice seemed to ring from the ceiling. “Carson isn’t a... prankster, Sam. He’s more like the devil himself!”
    Sam turned narrowed eyes toward Trish. “I hear you. I really do.”
    Trish watched Sam leave, then looked down at shaking hands.
     

20
     
    I HEAR AND I OBEY! CHAMP CHUCKELD. FOREVER AT your service, Master Carson. True blue for you! He had just been given his second assignment as the Masked Marvel. The first had been a joy. “You can make big bucks as a heavy equipment operator!” Oh, cunning, cunning Carson! No ordinary mask this, no domino-on-a-stick, no rubbery rotfaced repulser to