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He nodded and promptly moved off to the next staff to buy them both iced gingerbread cookies. They ate them as they admired glass tree decorations at one stall, and then carved wooden candle arches at another.
When Piper reached the candle store, it only took her a few moments to find her favorite. “Try this,” she said, lifting the candle under Dawson’s nose. “Orange and cinnamon, my favorite.”
He gave a careful sniff, then picked up a dark green one. “What about this one?” he glanced at the label. “Christmas tree?” His brow wrinkled at the simple name, but he nodded once he’d inhaled. “To be honest, it does smell like a Christmas tree.”
She shook her head. “Uh-uh, it’s definitely the orange one for me.” She handed over her dollars and waited until the lady had bagged it before turning around and stopping dead.
“I think I’ve found it,” she said.
“Found what?” Dawson was trying to rearrange the candle display he’d just disrupted.
“Our angel,” she hissed quietly, giving him an elbow in the ribs. “Look!”
This time Dawson did spin around, his gaze following the direction Piper was pointing in.
Sure enough, just in front of them was a stall that seemed more like a bakery. Hanging from the ceiling was a variety of baked goods. There was a huge signLebkuchen.
“What’s lebkuchen?” asked Dawson.
“I’m not quite sure but look at the shapes. There’re angels up there.”
Sure enough, there were angels, Christmas trees, and stars. “Let’s go ask,” said Dawson, putting an arm back around her shoulder and leading her through the crowd to the stall.
Piper was nervous. This had to be the right thing. It just had to be. She pointed at one of the angels. “Can I ask—lebkuchen, what is it?”
The woman behind the stall gave her a wide grin. “It’s a baked German Christmas treat. Would you like to try?” She held up a plate that had a variety of broken pieces.
Piper nodded and lifted a piece, taking a bite, nodding to Dawson to do the same. The soft, moist, and nutty sweet treat was delicious, and she could taste the ginger and cinnamon right away. “Is there honey in this?”
The woman nodded. “Of course.”
Piper lifted her hand and squeezed Dawson’s arm. “This has to be it,” she whispered. “This has to be what we were supposed to find.”
“Can we have six of the angels please?” said Dawson as he pulled out his wallet.
“The angels are our most popular,” said the stall holder as she lifted six into a bag. “We’ve been coming here for more than fifteen years, and they always sell the most.”
Piper and Dawson exchanged a glance. Fifteen years. Had Margaret Smith visited here at one time? Surely, she must have. How else could she have written the clue?
“Delicious,” Dawson said gratefully as he took the bag and handed over his money.
Piper watched him as they walked back through the crowd and headed to the exit. “Dawson,” she said slowly. “Doesn’t this all seem a bit strange to you?”
“What do you mean?”
The crowd was thinning as they left the main part of the market and headed back to the car.
She touched his arm again. “This,” she said, and stopped walking.
He looked down at the brown bag in his arm. “Do you think we’ve got the wrong thing?”
He stopped at a wooden street sign for the market and pulled an angel from the bag. “Take a picture,” he said, “So we can send it to McNally, Travers, and Sully.”
Piper pulled out her phone and snapped the angel lebkuchen next to the sign for the Christmas market.
“The truth is, I don’t know if we’ve got the wrong thing,” she said, putting her phone away. “But this—” She held out her arms. “At the Christmas market. It’s only here for around six weeks every year. How could Margaret Smith have known it would be here when we got the clues?”
Dawson frowned. “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.”
