|Twenty-five-year-old Margie Webster’s body was found along a hedgerow between two farm fields—a place where she would have no reason to be.|
“So, the murder weapon you think, Herb?” asked Clayton, with a tilt of his head towards the log.
“I’m not guessing on that one until I get her back to the morgue,” said Herb, “and not until your forensic guys have that adze removed. No mistaking who she is though.”
“Nope. Jack Webster’s daughter,” said Clayton, “worked up at McCormick’s boat rental last I heard. Quiet girl--what do make of the clothes?”