All thrillers require a certain amount of suspension of disbelief, but this one was silly. The main character moves into a house purchased by her boyfriend, and then kicks him out when she finds out that the previous owner had been murdered by her husband in the house. Leo the boyfriend did know this and in fairness should have told her, but she overreacts because her dead sister and the murder victim shared the same first name. She then pairs up with a private eye who she initially meets when he sneaks into her house under false pretenses at a cocktail party, and uses dinner parties and lunches as an opportunity to sleuth out information about the murder from her new neighbors. Supposedly she works as a translator for novels, but she must have a light workload and a very flexible work schedule in order to be able to spend so much time investigating her neighbors. The therapist interludes seemed kind of pointless too; maybe they were just there so this book could be titled "The Therapist."
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