I’ll take them to my sergeant.”

“Photographs of a deed aren’t a deed.”

“No, ma’am, they’re not.

But I’m not getting a judge to sign off on a phone call.”

Rachel raised her eyebrows at me over her cup.

I nodded, and she wrote something on her napkin, folded it, and put it in her purse.

“You have a reservation tomorrow,” I said.

“Seven o’clock at the Italian place.”