at the heart of her murder. He glanced over at Heath. Yeah, they might not agree on who got to claim Mystery, but they both knew instantly this was important.
“Can you recall anything she did tell you?” Heath asked.
“If you know anything about my mother’s murder, please. Even a small speck of information would be helpful. I think whoever’s behind her death means to kill me, too.”
“Kill you?” The woman looked positively petrified. “Oh, my. Oh, dear.” She fanned herself again. “Are you sure?”
“Very,” Axel answered. “So anything you can tell us is helpful.”
The woman sank into a chair at the kitchen table, empty mug forgotten. “Well, she seemed withdrawn and wouldn’t answer questions. The only thing she said that I remember is that she expected your father would take forever to give her a single cent from the divorce. So she knew that money would be an issue when she left him.”
Mystery frowned. “She was wrong about that. My dad said he’d give her money as long as she didn’t move me back to Kansas.”
Gail shrugged. “When she came to visit the month before she died, Julia was certain Marshall would cut her off, so she was determined to make her own money. She told me she’d been writing a . . . memoir or something. She intended to sell it and had a publisher interested. When I pointed out that she was hardly a famous woman after a few small roles in movies and TV, she huffed at me and admitted that she wasn’t the focus of the book.”
Marshall Mullins had been. His wife had intended to blow the doors wide open on his extracurricular love life. She’d been writing a tell-all book. Axel swore under his breath. Across the top of Mystery’s head, he noticed that Heath did the same.
Time to question her father again. He definitely knew more than he was letting on, and he’d press the famous bastard hard—without Mystery listening to inhibit his tongue—until he got some damn answers.
Seeming to read his mind, Mystery gaped. “But Daddy didn’t kill her. I know he didn’t.”
“He doesn’t look like the man in that photo,” Axel conceded. “But certainly there are plenty of douchebags willing to kill a defenseless woman for a few dollars.”
“Yeah, but . . .” Mystery shook her head. “My mom asked for the divorce, not him. He was upset when she demanded they split.”
“Maybe then he snapped,” Gail supplied. “It happens. I watch the ID TV channel all the time, and you see the shows about these crimes of passion that—”
“With all due respect, we’re just speculating now,” Axel cut in. “Your sister could have written things in that book that upset any number of people.”
“Indeed,” Heath agreed. “Mr. Mullins said something about the wife of a very dangerous man. Maybe that man found out about the affair. Maybe some other woman didn’t want her secret fling with Mullins exposed, so she made sure his wife’s accusations could never be printed.”
“Maybe.” Mystery frowned. “But who else knew she was writing this book? Not my dad.”
“She would have tried to hide it, I’m sure. It’s not like she’d have wanted him to know that she intended to blow the lid on his sex life wide open,” Axel pointed out.
She scoffed. “All anyone had to do was read the tabloids. Dad didn’t try very hard to hide who he was sleeping with on any given day.”
“That may be true, but your mom could give far more accurate information, not tabloid speculation. And maybe she’d found out about some lover of your father’s who’d go to any length to keep their cheating out of the rags.”
“The way they hounded him relentlessly, I can’t see the paparazzi missing even one of his girlfriends. But I guess it’s possible.”
“Whatever your mother knew may have gotten her killed.” Axel reached for her hand. “We have to keep digging and figure this out.”
“Yes.” Gail looked flustered. “Yes, of course. I think . . . I need a few minutes to myself to process everything. My poor sister.” She stood and looked as if she fought tears. “If we’re going to reach the lawyer’s office by three, we should leave here shortly before two, but there’s a café in Emporia. It’s one of my favorites. If we leave in the next hour, I’d like to have lunch there. It was one of Julia’s favorites, too.”
No way and no reason Axel could say no to that. “Of course. We’ll be ready to leave about noon.”
“I’ll bring you some of those cookies I baked last night and my homemade lemonade to tide you over.” Aunt Gail sniffled. “Thank you.”
Then she left the room and ran up the stairs, looking distraught.
Mystery’s face fell. She looked at him with tears swimming in her big eyes. “What did my mother know that got her killed? It can’t be who my father shared a bed with.”
Axel agreed with her assessment. “We don’t know. The bigger question is how do we get our hands on that manuscript? Can you think of any place she would have stashed a copy?”
“No. We’ve moved twice since she died. Someone would have found it. If she’d left it with a friend . . .” Her eyes widened as if a thought occurred to her.
It occurred to Axel, too. “She was far more likely to leave it with her sister.”
“Or near her. Perhaps that’s what the attorney has been safekeeping,” Heath mused. “Perhaps that’s what the key is for.”
She let out a shuddering breath. “I think you’re right.”
Mystery stood, looking pale. Axel’s heart thudded in his chest. He fucking hated to see her worried or in pain or afraid. Right now, his princess looked as if she’d been flattened by all of the above, and it made him want to draw a damn sword and do battle for her—whatever was necessary to help her slay her dragons and find peace again . . . as corny as that sounded.
“Axel,” Heath muttered. “We have to discuss this.”
He noticed the other man now glided his palm soothingly between Mystery’s shoulder blades.
She looked up at Heath. “You think there’s danger? Whoever left me the photo at the hotel room could still be watching and have some plan to kill me if I try to claim whatever my mother left with that attorney for me?”
Despite the coiling of danger that made his gut burn, Axel shot Heath a wry stare. “Why couldn’t she have been a stupid girl? Sometimes, like now, if she had fewer brain cells, it might set me at ease.”
Mystery scoffed but flubbed the sound. It turned into a laugh. “I don’t think you’d like me if I was a dumb ass.”
“Probably not,” Axel admitted, then braced his hand on the small of her back, soothing her with a brush of his palm.
His fingers collided with Heath’s, still caressing her. He sent the other man a glare that warned him to back off. And Heath just smiled in a tight, fuck-off sort of way.
As if he didn’t have enough fucking problems . . . Besides the emotional aunt and the flaring danger, now he had to put up with a would-be Romeo. Fucking awesome.
“We should get ready to go.” Axel ushered Mystery toward the stairs, away from Heath’s touch. “I’m assuming you want a shower?”
“Yeah.” She swiped a hand over her tired face. “God, I hope I’m ready for this. But it’s now or never.”
“I’ll always do everything I can to keep you safe,” Heath vowed across the room.
She turned back to him with a grateful stare, and Axel tried not to take the Brit’s head off for expressing concern. He needed to downshift on the resentment. If Mystery had wanted the man, she would have already been in his bed. Because no way would Heath have turned her down. Right now, she needed protection more than jealousy. And he needed to pull his head out of his ass and call Mullins again—out of Mystery’s earshot.
“We both will. Let’s go.”
* * *
IN Emporia, the pace of the traffic was definitely an upswing from Marion, but it still had a small-town feel. Aunt Gail had made everyone a glass of homemade lemonade before they’d started the drive, reminding Mystery so much of visits here with her mom. She was
still feeling wistful as they reached the diner.
Most everyone had been quiet during the hour-long drive here. Mystery looked over at Axel. He seemed surprisingly jumpy and a bit impatient, preoccupied—probably with keeping her safe. She appreciated the protector in him as he slid into a booth, her against the wall across the faux wooden table from Heath, Axel beside her, facing Aunt Gail.
This place hadn’t changed a bit since she was a kid. Same rust-colored vinyl seats, same dark wooden trim, same aging linoleum, same bubble-bulb fixtures from the seventies. Mystery remembered being here, laughing with her mom. They’d sat on the far side of the room and eaten fried chicken with mashed potatoes, topped it off with ice cream and laughter.
Less than a month later, her mother had been dead.
Today, she might finally find out why. She only hoped she lived to tell the world what had really befallen Julia Mullins.
Mystery folded her hands on the table in front of her.
“You all right?” Heath asked.
She didn’t bother lying to him. He knew her too well. So she just smiled, but her heart broke a little for him. Mystery had always suspected that he cared, but love? Everything about her life was a mess right now. Besides all this crap with her mother’s death, she now held her bodyguard’s feelings in her hands. It would have been so much easier if she could have loved him back. They lived in the same country. He’d never refuse her. They got along fairly well.
But her heart had fixated on Axel long ago, and her chances of getting over him now were nil. She wanted to believe that he was in as deep with her, but he’d merely said he was falling. He hadn’t actually said the “L” word to her. Would he ever?
Tucking the thought away, she forced a smile as the waitress handed them each a menu. Honestly, she wasn’t hungry, having just had breakfast a few hours ago and knowing that her meeting with the attorney could be anywhere between painful and difficult. But this meant a lot to her aunt, and Mystery enjoyed the memories here. She liked the place.
At least until the perky waitress sidled closer to Axel and sent him a flirty smile. “What can I get you? Fried chicken is our specialty, but I also have some tasty pie.”
Mystery rolled her eyes. Did the woman think she was being subtle? “I’ll have a glass of iced tea.”
“That sounds good, too.” Axel didn’t seem to pay the woman much attention.
As the waitress jotted down their drink orders, her aunt ordered iced tea, too. Heath shivered and murmured something about sacrilege, then asked for water.
“Sure.” The waitress flashed them a megawatt smile, her brassy blond tresses spilling over her shoulders to brush the tops of her full breasts, which she arched and thrust out just a bit in Axel’s direction. “Can I get you anything else?”
Aunt Gail looked at her watch. “Give us a few minutes to look over the menu, please.”
The waitress, whose nametag read PATRICE, let her gaze linger on Axel again. “Sure.”
Mystery sighed. Clearly, she was going to have to get used to women hitting on her man if she and Axel managed to stay alive and work out all their other differences.
He fidgeted in his seat and lifted his head from the menu. Staring at Patrice’s swaying ass as she walked away?
The thought really pissed her off, and Mystery took a deep breath. She couldn’t convict Axel of cheating because he’d looked around the room. Even if he’d looked for the waitress, maybe he’d thought of something else he’d like to drink.
God, she so didn’t want to be like her mom.
“How far is the attorney’s office?” she asked her aunt for a distraction.
“About three miles east.” She gestured vaguely in the direction. “I’m glad I called to confirm the appointment. I didn’t want to mistake the time. I don’t always remember everything anymore.” She sighed. “C.R.S.”
“C.R.S., ma’am?” Axel asked.
Gail flushed. “Can’t remember, um . . .” She dropped her voice to the merest whisper. “Shit.”
Mystery laughed. This was the Aunt Gail she remembered. A little dotty, a little unexpected, and usually a lot of fun.
After her mother’s death, she seemed to have become more solemn and pious. Mystery understood. Julia Mullins’s murder had affected them all.
Patrice dropped off everyone’s drinks, bustled away, then returned with some cornbread. She took everyone’s orders, “accidentally” brushing against Axel’s thigh a couple of times. Mystery wished he would put an arm around her or indicate to the forward waitress in some way that he was taken, but he seemed distant. No, distracted.
After Patrice collected their menus with a wink and sashayed off, Heath turned to her aunt. “You’re feeling better since we gave you the terrible news about your sister in the kitchen?”
Aunt Gail drew in a thoughtful breath and seemed to contemplate her answer. “It was a shock, but I prayed before we left. In my room, I caught the last few minutes of Hour of Grace on TV. I just love Reverend Grace. Do you watch him?”
“I don’t think I’ve heard of him in the UK,” Heath deferred politely.
“Is that true?” her aunt asked.
Mystery nodded. “I don’t know who he is. A televangelist, I’m guessing.”
“You’d say so. He’s brilliant. Anyway, part of the sermon I caught was about letting go. You can tell from his stirring words that he’s lost deeply in life. He helped me realize that the cause of Julia’s death doesn’t matter much. Nothing will bring her back. I hate that her last moments were of aggression and fear. But she’s with the Lord now, and in a far better place.”
While Mystery supposed that was true, it wasn’t as cut and dried for her. Maybe because she didn’t have Aunt Gail’s sort of faith to bolster or calm her. Instead, she just felt angry that she still didn’t know who to hate or who to picture taking the mental violence she’d never dish out. But why spoil lunch with this conversation?
Across the table, Heath looked as if he fiercely disagreed with her aunt. She frowned at him in question, and he gave a subtle shake of his head. Mystery made a mental note to ask him later.
“Absolutely,” she murmured. “Tell me about your upcoming mission trip to Indonesia.”
“Isn’t it exciting?” Her aunt smiled, looking far younger than her years. “I’m looking forward to a whole new adventure. There’s so much need for medical care in so many third-world countries, so the chance to help vaccinate children and assist mothers give birth safely while spreading the gospel is such a fabulous opportunity.”
“Are you just traveling with people from your church?”
“No. It’s actually been organized through Reverend Grace’s ministry. He’s sending ten medical professionals there. We’ll assess their needs, their existing equipment, and their reception to the Lord. It’s a spiritual reconnaissance trip. I think it’s my calling now that I’m retired. I have the time and the will to help these people.”
Mystery felt a little ashamed that she’d never had such a selfless need to help strangers on the other side of the world. “It sounds like a great cause. I’m sure they need everything you and the others will bring them.”
Her aunt smiled as if an inner peace glowed from within. “Serve the Lord, and you’ll never be left wanting again.”
Beside her aunt, Heath tapped on his phone, looking distracted. Mystery drank her tea, noticing that Axel fidgeted, glancing around the restaurant. Why were these two so on edge? Yes, she was nervous about seeing what she’d inherited, and maybe she’d be collecting whatever had gotten her mom killed. But after all these years, could whatever secret Julia Mullins had taken to the grave still be that important?
The food arrived moments later, and Patrice set everything down, saving Axel’s for last, serving his grilled chicken and veggies with a saucy wink.
Mystery just really wanted to slap the woman. Instead, she forced a smile. “Can I have the ketchup?”
Patrice reached to the next booth over, now empty, an
d plucked one up, almost slamming it down on the table in front of her. “Anything else?”
Axel shifted his weight in his seat again. “Where’s the restroom?”
Clearly glad to be of service, the waitress sent him a sultry smile. “I’m headed that direction myself, sugar. Why don’t you follow me?”
“You okay?” Mystery muttered to him as he slid out of the booth.
“Yeah. Quick restroom break. I’ll be back.”
As he hustled across the café, her aunt reached for her hand. “Let’s pray.”