Read Online Southern Gothic by Stuart Jaffe - Free Book Online Page B

away. I stay in the South because this is my home, it’s where I’m from. But I’ll tell you something more. I got my degree in library sciences up in Pennsylvania. Beautiful state. Nice people. You know the town of Ephrata? Grand Wizard of the KKK lived there.”
    “I didn’t mean to imply there were no bigots anywhere in the North, but I would think —”
    “You would, but you’d be wrong. There are the same number of bigots everywhere. Difference here is that in the South, they aren’t afraid to show their true colors. I know exactly who my friends are and who are my enemies down here. Up North, everyone smiles and treats you real nice. Until you leave and they start counting the silverware. So, no thank you. I’m happy to stay here. I know where I stand. I know who my people are.”
    Max didn’t know if he bought Leon’s idea as a constant truth, but he certainly could see how it held true for Leon. He simply didn’t know enough black people to judge if all felt the same way. And what’s that say about me? That I don’t know enough black people?
    Troubled by his thoughts, Max welcomed a change when Leon tapped the paper and said, “Hmmm. It says here that a family of three was hanged because the Ku Klux said they had attempted escape during the War. ‘Governor Holden has requested the aid of Federal soldiers in calming the nightly agitations. This is good news to most Negroes who have been complaining about ill treatment. Miss Lilla H. was willing to be quoted as saying “We ain’t slaves no more.” This reporter agrees but notes that while Negroes are no longer slaves, that doesn’t give them the mental faculties necessary for voting or participating in our civilized mode of life.’ See that? There’s still too many today who would agree with this paper.”
    “Racism issues aside, do you think that’s Miss Lilla?”
    Leon read the article again, his distaste for it pulsing off his tense shoulders and set jaw. At length, he nodded. “It could be her. It would explain a lot, too. See they call her ‘Miss Lilla H.’ which suggests that she’s no slave.”
    “Civil War’s over by this point. Nobody’s a slave.”
    “I mean if she had been a slave, she’d have the Master’s last name, or like Freeman, she would have changed it. Instead, the paper only gives her an initial. It’s possible she was never a slave. That the letter stands for whatever her real last name is, and that the white men running the paper didn’t want to acknowledge that but also wanted to make sure the KKK knew who to target for saying anything at all. Don’t forget, the KKK was made up of all types — ex-soldiers, former slave owners, and plenty of people longing for the ‘good old days’ — so, they use the initial of her last name.”
    Max frowned. “That can’t be the big secret. I mean, somebody killed Sebastian. Almost a hundred fifty years later, why would it matter if Lilla was a slave or not? It couldn’t matter enough to kill a man. Could it?”
    As Leon shrugged, Max’s cell phone rang — Sandra. “Hi, hon,” he said, enjoying the warm feeling of speaking to her with affection.
    Instead of a warm response, Sandra’s filled his ear with excited energy. “I’ve got him. I think I know why Sebastian was murdered.”

 
    Chapter 8
     
    Max met up with Sandra and Drummond at the McDonald’s across the street from their trailer park. They knew they shouldn’t splurge on dinner out — even dinner as cheap as McDonald’s — but none could stand the thought of discussing the case that evening while surrounded by their failure. At least while eating fast food, they could face the other direction and pretend that crappy trailer didn’t await their return. More importantly, the restaurant had much better heating.
    As Max and Sandra settled in on the same side of a booth, Max grabbed a fry. “So, tell me everything. Who killed Sebastian?”
    Drummond slipped into the seat opposite them. “Hold on,