“We’re working on a murder together…” Lady on a Train, 1945 I’m not sure why but, for me, romance and murder go hand-in-hand. That’s probably the result of a youth misspent watching a lot of black and white movies. You know the kind of thing. Lots of snappy dialog and meaningful looks, great clothes, wonderful old cars, and a certain freewheeling attitude where the law was concerned. In fact, sometimes the line between the good guys and the bad was fascinatingly narrow. Anyway, very few of those vintage mystery films were without some kind of romance — even if it ended very badly indeed. Not that romance isn’t exciting all on its own, but it does certainly up the ante if you’re running for your life or accused of a crime you didn’t commit or faced with the most perplexing puzzle of your life. It’s not that most romance novels just don’t have enough plot for me — well, maybe that is what I’m saying. I know that’s not true, because I’ve read plenty of romances that are stuffed with plot and conflict, both internal and external. Maybe it’s because I personally have trouble of thinking of a plot that…