Deadly Row to Hoe by Cricket McRae

another photo that shows what she looked like then.”
    She nodded. “Okay. But where do you propose getting the new photo?”
    “From Bette Anders.” Our friend Bette, the potter, made a decent living with her clay artistry, having built a good name and loyal clientele. “She was at the farm when you found the body, and Barr showed her the autopsy photo last night. So we wouldn’t inadvertently compromise the investigation if we asked for her help,” I said.
    Meghan had changed into a coral-toned calico dress that set off her eyes, and now she leaned back in her chair and smoothed the skirt. “I still don’t get it.”
    “You know those clay masks she sculpts? She told me she uses facial manipulation software to work out ideas, since the masks are based on photos of real people. See, I want to scan this picture—” I waved the one in my hand. “—so we have a digital copy. Then take it to Bette and have her use her whippy software to change the face to reflect the way your bird lady looked four years ago.”
    She looked skeptical. “That sounds like a lot of trouble.”
    “Meghan, I really, really want to find out who she was. I’m willing to try anything.”
    Her head tipped to one side. “All right. Go for it. I don’t have a client for a few hours, so I’ll continue to plod through these.” She waved at the stack of folders on one side of her desk. “That way we’ll be coming at the problem from two fronts.”
    For someone who was dead set against my getting involved, my housemate was pretty willing to get involved her own self. Interesting.
    “I like your thinking except for one problem,” I said.
    “What?”
    “I don’t know what she used to look like. You do. You have to come with me to give Bette some direction.”
    “Hmm.” The idea didn’t please her, but then she seemed to make a decision. “Well, I don’t even know what I’m looking for here. Nothing seems to be jogging my memory.” She closed the file that was open on her desk. “When do you want to go?”
    “She’s an early riser. I bet she’s hard at work now. I’ll give her a call.”
    “Are you sure you should interrupt her?”
    “I wouldn’t bother her if it weren’t for a good cause,” I said. “And I saw her face at the farm yesterday. She was horrified. I bet she’ll be happy to help.”
    At least I hoped so.
    _____
    The phone rang five times before Bette picked up. I apologized for calling so early.
    “No problem,” she said. “You know me. I’ve been up for hours.”
    “Well, I’m about to interrupt your morning even more, if you’ll let me.”
    “Egg delivery?” Bette was one of Erin’s regular customers.
    “No. I mean, sure, I can bring over a dozen if you want them, but I’m in need of a favor. You know that software you told me about a while back? Where you can manipulate facial features?”
    “… yeah.”
    “I was hoping you might perform some of your magic on a photo for me.”
    “Um, sure. When were you thinking—”
    “How about right now? Meghan and I can be there in five minutes.”
    “Uh, okay …”
    “Great! See you in a few.”
    She was saying goodbye as I hung up. Dang it, Kelly was right. This investigating stuff was kind of exciting. I didn’t dare hope this little scheme would work though.
    Oh, poo, I thought as I went downstairs. I did too hope it would work. After quickly checking in on the girls—who had already finished pouring the lemon lip balms and had moved on to melting beeswax for the cinnamon ones—I scanned the picture into the computer in my workroom. Then I copied it to a flash drive, shut off the monitor, and went back up to the kitchen.
    “Meghan!” I slipped the drive into my pocket. “Are you ready?”
    _____
    Bette lived alone in the middle of the next block on our street. Well, alone except for Alexander, her German shepherd. He sat on the front porch, regal and still as a stone as we entered through the gate and closed it behind us. It wasn’t