he had learned earlier that day, things Leon had said. If Lilla had never been a slave, she would have been making a living somehow before the war. And afterwards, all black people needed to find jobs. It was a chaotic time. But she would have had years of work experience under her belt. Getting a job might have been easier, but not necessarily easy — no matter what, she was still a black woman in the late 1860s looking for a job.
“Maybe,” Max said, drawing out the word as he formulated his thoughts, “Lilla’s child worked for Cal Baxter. Lilla would have probably been a highly sought after maid. One of the best in the area. If she wasn’t a slave, she would have been better educated — at least enough to take care of herself and keep employed.”
Drummond agreed. “Over time she builds up a good reputation and then trains her daughter to do the same. Did she have a daughter?”
“Lilla and Walter Freeman had two daughters and three sons. So, it’s possible. By the time Cal Baxter has built his mansion, he hires the Freeman daughter to run the place based on the firm reputation of the mother.”
Sandra pulled out her cell phone and tapped away. Their phones would be one of the last things to give up. Their trailer had no Internet connection, so they relied on their phones to stay connected to the world. “I’m making a note to look further into that. I’ll see what I can find.”
“I still don’t see how all this Cal Baxter stuff tells us who murdered Sebastian.”
“Patience, honey.” Sandra finished her note and put the phone away. “After I found out the Baxter info, I turned my focus toward Luther Boer, and let me tell you this — he’s lucky to still have his job. The Boer’s are heavily in debt. They spent the last few months house hunting but couldn’t secure a loan. I called their landlord and told her I was the bank following up their loan application. She told me they were two months behind on their rent.”
“What a wonderfully sneaky move,” Drummond said.
“I’m learning a lot hanging around you two. I also posed as a Realtor and was able to get access to the rest of their finances.”
“Wait,” Max said, his jaw as wide open as his eyes. “You can do that?”
“Oh, honey, it’s easy. The world pretends we’re all security conscious, but things are as loose as they ever were. Maybe even more than before computers.”
She put her hand over his, and the simple gesture warmed him. “Luther’s broke,” he said. “Worse off than us. And he’s got all sorts of problems because of that. I’m guessing you think he killed Sebastian.”
“Doesn’t it seem likely?”
Max thought for a moment. “We need more information. This is all good stuff, and I feel in my gut that we’re closing in on things, but it’s not there yet.”
Rising in the air, Drummond said, “Okay, pal. What do you want us to do?”
“You and Leed have got to find Sebastian.”
“I told you —”
“He didn’t fake his death, and you know it. So go back to the Other and find him, or find out where he went. While you’re at it, see if you can find Cal Baxter in there. Maybe he’ll tell us if he ever hired Lilla H’s daughter. Sandra, I need you to do the same incredible job you just pulled finding information on Luther Boer, and go find whatever you can on Sebastian Freeman. I’ve been spending all my time looking into his past, but we don’t know anything about his present.”
“You can count on it,” Sandra said. “What about you?”
“I’ve got to take on what might be the most dangerous job of all. I’m going to visit Luther Boer’s wife.”
Chapter 9
The next day, Max drove out east on Route 40 and exited onto Thomasville Road. The Winston-Salem city line ran clear out to the town of Walburg where there were several groups of apartment buildings. Some looked well-maintained and pricey. Others looked as if they had been designed in the 1970s — all brick and