Racial hatred rests uncomfortably at the roots of American history, a cancer lurking just beneath the surface of who we are.

Thomas Zigal’s page-turning novel “The White League” presents this condition in microcosm as its flawed hero, a wealthy New Orleans coffee magnate, goes digging through his city’s past in an effort to ward off demons from his own.

Paul Blanchard is a decent, go-along-to-get-along rich man with a skeleton in his closet and a big burden on his conscience.

Years earlier, a white supremacist frat brother named Mark Morvant helped Paul out of a bad jam. Now the frat brother has grown up to be a dangerous man with his eyes on the governorship. He wants Paul’s patronage; more than that, he wants Paul to deliver the support of a shadowy white power operation called The White League, thought to have faded away decades ago.

Paul’s family may have White League connections, and Morvant is ready to play blackmail if Paul doesn’t procure the League’s backing.

“The White League” is a crime novel of sorts, but it transcends the confines of genre fiction while maintaining the narrative thrust of a classic detective story.

Zigal deftly interweaves Paul’s crisis and quest for White League info with tidbits of New Orleans history and political intrigue. He also juggles a vast assortment of secondary characters, including Paul’s gay brother, Perry, who knows a little something about that Dallas afternoon in November 1963; Kathleen, Paul’s sister, on intimate terms with Paul’s blackmailer; and James Castle, a veteran black cop who seems to know Paul has something to hide.

It all unfolds under a dark shadow of secrecy, stage managed by good ol’ boys eager to see the Old South rise again. The conspiracy elements aren’t always believable, nor is Paul’s occasional gullibility in the face of terror. But the parts click together smoothly, and the atmosphere is as thick and sticky as a New Orleans summer day.