Magnolia Gods (River Sunday Romance Mysteries Book 2) Read Online Free Page A

of the war, but that he wasn’t disloyal to the country.”
     Mike grinned and said, “Jeremy, my assistant, and I like to say that we let the wreck tell its own story.”
    The men were silent for a moment. Mike glanced out the window. In the bright sun, the colors of a cornfield in back of the building looked washed in greens and browns.
    “Looks almost patriotic, doesn’t it, just like one of the waving fields of grain out west,” Jesse said.
    “The Fourth of July is almost here, “Mike said.
    “The Fourth isn’t a good day for me,” said Jesse.
    “That’s what you said. Tell me, did anyone ever prove for sure that your grandfather was a traitor?”
    “They tried,” Jesse said.
    “I imagine you’ve looked into this yourself.”
    “Me and my mother had pretty much decided to let the whole thing rest.”
    “What caused you to get interested now?” asked Mike.
    “I found you people, an outfit that I think I can trust, to do the looking.” Jesse stood up. “My family has been accused of this terrible thing for too long. Do you have any idea what that is like?”
    “So you don’t think he was guilty?” Mike said.
    “No, I don’t,” said Jesse. “I don’t know why except that’s what I was told as a kid. I don’t have any proof.”
    Jesse blinked his eyes, a little mist forming on the deep tan of his strong face.
    “See, Mike, on top of the accusations against my grandfather, I have another reason. My own father was murdered by a mob of Vietnam War protesters in 1973.”
    “Murdered?” Mike asked, astonishment in his voice.
    Jesse went on, “He had just got off the plane from Oakland, California. Just arrived in Baltimore. Fresh home from Vietnam, in uniform with all his medals. Outside the airport in Baltimore, he got into a fight, got beat up, died on the street. The police never found the people that did it.”
    “That’s ironic,” said Mike. “He survived the war and still it killed him.”
    “Yeah but it’s more complicated,” said Jesse. “You see, my mother never thought it was protesters. She thought it was Aviatrice, waiting for him, letting him know they were still around. He pushed back. Coming out of Nam he must have thought he could take on anything.”
    “Didn’t the police investigate?” asked Mike.
    “My mother believed the police were told to stop the investigation,” Jesse explained.
    “Did she have any proof of that?” Mike said.
    “Figure it out for yourself,” Jesse said. “A mob kills a man in broad daylight and highly trained big city police detectives can’t find anyone to arrest.”
    Mike thought for a moment. “He was killed twenty-seven years after the plane was stolen. You got to admit, Jesse, that’s a long time for anyone, even a man like Wall, to carry a grudge.”
    “Those Aviatrice people are vicious.” Jesse shrugged his shoulders. “One time when I was a kid, they came to our house. I still feel the evil of their invasion. The River Sunday police chief told my father that Aviatrice was within its rights to come to our house and ask us questions. That was typical of how we were treated in those days. One time our kitchen caught on fire and the fire department didn’t bother to come until that whole section of the house was lost. My parents knew we were on our own, that no one would stand up for the Lawsons.
    “I can still see those men sitting with my grandmother in the old parlor, which she called her front hall. I can smell their sweat drifting through the warm rooms. I imagined the stink remaining on every seat and place they touched, even for weeks afterward no matter how hard my mother would clean the chairs for me. My grandmother sat there not saying anything as they asked her over and over about where her husband was going with the plane. Then they got angry and went through the house, ransacking at will. They said they were looking for any notes or letters my grandfather might have left behind. They laughed at her as they