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Piper looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“I just wonder if Margaret Smith really means us to solve these clues?”
“But why would she lead us on some wild goose chase—that doesn’t make sense at all?” Piper frowned. She’d never even contemplated the fact this might not be real. “And what kind of attorneys would call us into an office if this wasn’t all true?”
“Maybe they don’t know.”
The words made her shiver. “No.” Piper shook her head. “That Mr. McNally. There was something about him. A twinkle in his eyes, a fond look when he spoke about her. He wouldn’t involve himself in sending us on a wild goose chase. And I think he might have known her well.”
“Think about it. She’s an author. She has a good imagination. What if she wanted to teach us a lesson?”
Piper stepped in front of Dawson. “Teach us a lesson about what?”
Dawson ran his fingers through his hair. “Piper, from the moment her book hit the spotlight, Margaret Smith disappeared. Yours was the only interview, and”—he pulled a face—“maybe I was a little annoyed when she turned me away. Her life changed. Everything changed. What if she decided to teach us a lesson by giving us unsolvable clues?”
Piper stood stock still, contemplating what he’d just said. As she waited, one by one, across the street from them, more Christmas tree lights flickered on in windows. “Look,” she breathed. “It’s a sign.”
Dawson looked over his shoulder, seeing the Christmas tree lights now in nearly every window. “A sign that it’s getting dark, and everyone has their tree on a timer switch?”
“Are you just the Christmas grinch?”
Dawson looked shocked. “What?”
Piper held out both hands. “Really. Are you just the Christmas grinch? We get one hard clue that we can’t solve in the blink of an eye, and you’re all conspiracy theories and doom and gloom.”
“Maybe I’m just cold. That’s the thing about seeing all the Christmas lights in people’s houses. It makes you think of warm and comfortable things about Christmas when we’re just the opposite, outside in the snow and cold.” Something flashed in his eyes. “Just the opposite,” he murmured.
“What?” Piper’s hand went back to his arm. “What is it? What have you thought of?”
He started walking back toward the car and Piper hurried alongside him. “What if the opposite comment never referred to us at all?”
“I never thought it did.”
“So, let’s do this piece by piece.”
He unlocked the car and they climbed back in. “Nothing to do with Tarzan or apes. What’s the opposite of Tarzan?”
Piper couldn’t make head or tail of where he was going with this. “I don’t know. Jane?” she tried.
“Jane.” He smiled with a nod of his head as he pulled out of the parking lot. “And what’s the opposite of Eve?”
“Adam.”
He looked at her. “So, tell me what you’ve got now.”
“Adam Jane?” Then realization struck her face. “Or Jane Adam?”
He nodded. “Does the name ring a bell?”
Piper gave a slow nod. “It does, I’ve heard of her before. It’s two Ds, isn’t it? She won a Nobel Peace Prize?”
“And there’s a monument or statue to her. It’s in Chicago Women’s Park and Gardens.”
“She was a social worker, wasn’t she? And founded a house for poor people, and worked for women’s rights?” Piper tried to remember as much as she could. “I’m selling her short. She did so much more than that.”
Dawson nodded. “I remember my grandmother talking about her. She did work for playgrounds, education, huge amounts of work for women and children. My grandmother said Chicago wouldn’t have been the city it’s become without her.”
He flicked his indicator and changed lanes; the traffic wasn’t too heavy. They’d missed rush hour when they’d stopped in the parking lot to try and figure out the clue.
