IT WAS ALMOST COMFORTING to know that the sophisticated therapist had normal woman problems she mused as she parked out the front of Valerie’s house. A man was just backing out of the driveway and he tooted the horn as the BMW bumped onto the street. Karen waved as she activated the alarm on her Commodore and headed up the driveway to the front door. The last time she was here she’d used the intercom but perhaps Valerie had seen her coming because the front door was open when she tapped at the flyscreen door.
“Just come in,” Valerie called out, “I’m in the living room.”
Valerie’s living room looked almost as immaculate as Valerie. The plush L-shaped couch could fit three comfortably, two more matching sofa chairs were nearby and as Karen looked around the room she noticed the poster-size
