She lifted the Gladstone bag chest-high, popped it open, and pulled out a cassette.

“I know it sounds bizarre, but I’ve got the proof right here. They tape everything that comes over the line. I had them make me a copy.”

I said, “She must be pretty precocious.”

“Must be. I wish I’d had a chance to actually spend some time with her- what a neat kid, to take the initiative.” She paused. “What a hurt she must be going through. Anyway, after I listened to the tape I phoned the number she gave the volunteer and reached the mother. She had no idea Melissa had called. When I told her, she broke down and started to cry. But when I asked her to come in for a consultation, she said she was ill and couldn’t. I thought it was something physically debilitating, so I offered to go out there. Hence, my Gothic home visit.”

She held the tape out to me. “If you’d like, you can have a listen. It’s really something. I told the mother I’d be talking to a psychologist, took the liberty of giving her your name. But don’t feel any pressure.”

I took the cassette. “Thanks for thinking of me, but I honestly don’t know if I can make home visits to San Labrador.”

“She can come to the other side of town- Melissa can. A servant will bring her.”

I shook my head. “In a case like this, the mother should be actively involved.”

She frowned. “I know. It’s not optimal. But do you have techniques that can help the girl at all without maternal involvement? Just lower her anxiety level a bit? Anything you did might reduce her risk of turning out totally screwed up. It would be a real good deed.”

“Maybe,” I said. “If the mother doesn’t sabotage therapy.”