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“Dawson, I’ve barely had a chance to read it.”
“It’s shorter. Do you think that’s significant?”
Piper sighed but couldn’t help but smile. She still had research data to input into some of her files. “Why don’t we meet and talk about this in a few hours?”
“Sure. Any preference where?”
Piper felt a sudden wave of nostalgia. “How about Molly’s Diner? I love their mac and cheese and we could have an early dinner while working out the clue. Get you there at six?”
“Six is good. Want me to pick you up?”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll walk.”
She hung up and took off her jacket, catching sight of herself in the mirror. Horticulture wasn’t the cleanest or tidiest job in the world; she had twigs caught in her ponytail. She pulled them out and sat down at her computer, finishing her data entries before showering and changing to meet Dawson.
The streets between her house and diner were well-lit. Molly’s was notorious in Beechwood Park as the owner liked to embrace every season and holiday with enthusiasm. As a result, Molly’s previous Halloween and Thanksgiving decorations had been replaced with Christmas in every corner.
The bell tinkled as she pushed the door open. Lou, the owner gave her a wave, and she searched the place, catching sight of Dawson sitting in one of the booths.
“Molly’s,” he said, with a grin on his face as she slid in opposite him.
“Molly’s,” she agreed, “Where else is there?”
He looked around at the red and green decorations which took up every available space. “It’s like a Christmas explosion in here.”
“Haven’t you been in a while?”
“Not since high school,” he admitted.
Piper pulled over the plastic-coated menu. “Well, let me tell you exactly what’s good here.”
The waitress came over and Piper smiled broadly. “Diet Coke please.”
“Same,” said Dawson quickly as he scanned the menu. His nose wrinkled. “Has this changed in the last twenty years?”
“Oh, yes. The burgers have all been renamed. Pasta was introduced. Salads make a small appearance.” She pointed to the bottom corner of the menu. “There’s a specials board on the wall. And as for desserts”—her head nodded toward the laden glass cabinet—“You might think you’ve just died and gone to heaven.”
“So, what do you recommend?”
“Mac and cheese, every time. Sometimes with bacon. Sometimes with garlic bread, occasionally with a side of Cajun fries.” She gave him a critical appraisal. “How do you feel about messy foods?”
He looked down at his dark polo shirt. His eyes gleamed in amusement. “I feel as if I’ve dressed appropriately.”
“In that case, go for the barbecue ribs. Lou is renowned for them.”
She signaled the waitress back to take the rest of their order, then pulled out her card and put it on the table.
Dawson mimicked her behavior, putting his card down in front of him. “Do you mind if I do a quick film of us taking the cards out of the envelope?”
He was still planning on recording some of this. She didn’t want to be difficult, so she gave him a smile. “It’s fine. Go on.”
Dawson filmed them, then turned the camera back off. “So, please tell me you have an idea of what this means?”
“My brain hasn’t really had space to consider it. I finished inputting data for my research, jumped in the shower, and came to meet you.” Her fingers brushed the letters. “It’s half the size of the previous clue. Maybe shorter is good?” she said hopefully. “Who are some of the city’s ancestors?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.
“Wasn’t it supposed to be Jean Baptiste Point du Sable?”
“But there were still other people here besides him. The local Native Americans, the fur traders, the missionaries. He was from Haiti, wasn’t he?”
