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“What are you drinking?”
“A Dreamy Dorini Smoking Martini.” Morgan’s lips twitched as she spoke. “It’s vodka and some kind of smoky single-malt scotch. It’s actually pretty fantastic. You’re adventurous. Try one.”
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nbsp; “Done. And I’ll get you another.” Lane gave their order to the waiter, then turned back to Morgan. “This could just end up being the highlight of my day.”
Her brows arched slightly. “I’m not sure that’s a compliment. You sound like you’ve had a pretty tedious day.”
“Not tedious. Intense. I was working. But running into you would be a pleasure no matter what.”
“Very smooth.” Morgan took a sip of her drink. “You’re quite the charmer. No wonder your batting average is so high.”
Laughter rumbled in Lane’s chest. “My batting average? You either have a very high or a very low opinion of me.”
“Just an accurate one. No judgment intended.”
“Okay then, as long as we’re being honest, I don’t keep score. As for what I said about running into you being a pleasure, I meant it.” He paused, eyeing her speculatively. “Although you look like you’ve had a pretty rough day yourself.”
“I have.”
“Work?”
“Trying to figure out who killed my parents.”
Lane lowered his gaze, contemplating the obvious segue he’d just been offered. She’d been blunt. Time for him to be the same.
“Morgan, with regard to the murder investigation—the other night I didn’t get the chance to tell you something. There wasn’t an opportunity and Congressman Shore asked me to avoid upsetting you by bringing up the subject.”
“Tell me what?”
“You asked me if my father had mentioned you’d hired him.”
“And you said he had.”
“Right. What I didn’t say is that he didn’t just mention it in passing. He called me specifically to discuss it, and to arrange a meeting. We had that meeting today. In fact, we spent a good couple of hours together, reviewing the crime-scene photos. There’s nothing yet, but I’ll have the negatives on Monday. Hopefully, they’ll yield more clues.”
Morgan blinked. “I don’t understand. You’re a photojournalist. Why would you get involved in a criminal investigation?”
“Because I’m also a specialist in photo image enhancement.” Seeing the noncomprehension on her face, he explained. “I find visual clues using sophisticated digital technology. The field was relatively obscure seventeen years ago, mostly the domain of the military, NASA, and a few academics. All that’s changed now.”
“I see.” Morgan fiddled with her napkin. “So you’ve got experience and equipment that could help spot evidence that was originally missed.”
“Exactly. And Monty wanted me to let you know my role in this case, since you’re his client.” Lane tried to lighten the mood. “So, hey, you hired Monty, but you got two Montgomerys for the price of one.”
“That doesn’t please me,” Morgan returned in a short, clipped tone.
Lane started. He hadn’t expected her resistance. “Why? I’m more than trustworthy and, not to sound immodest, I’m damned good at what I do.”
“I’m sure you are. Neither of those things are the issue.”
“Then what is?”
“I appreciate your time and your skill. But I insist on paying for them. Your father wouldn’t accept a dime. Which means that any compensation you’re getting is coming out of his pocket. So tell me your rates, and I’ll write you a check.”
“Take it easy.” Lane reached over and stopped her as she opened her purse to extract her checkbook. “First of all, I had no idea what your financial arrangement with Monty was. And second, he’s not paying me a dime, either. So we’re even.” He eyed her dubious expression, waiting to continue until after their waiter had placed their drinks on the table.
“I’m not lying,” he leaned forward to assure her. “Monty and I don’t work that way. We don’t bill each other. We just like working together. It’s our form of recreation. Think of it as a challenging father-son project, you know, like building the tree house we put together when I was twelve.”
