Page 32 of The Next Mrs. Parrish

“I’m not really from the marketing agency.”

He started to get up. “I knew this was a load of crap. Look, lady, whoever you are, I don’t need any trouble.”

Daisy Ann put a hand up. “Now hold your horses. I’m not here to give you any trouble. You’ll get your money. I need some information on a friend of yours, and I was afraid you might not show up if I told you the truth.”

He hesitated a few seconds and then slowly slid back down, all the while eyeing the envelope.

“What friend?”

“My father was Jake Crawford. A woman named Amber Patterson murdered him. I’m trying to find out about her background, but I hit a dead end. I reckon you might know something about her.” At the mention of Amber’s name, Martin paled.

“I don’t know any Amber.”

“Now that’s strange since a piece of paper with your name and number was found among her things.” She leaned forward. “I’m willing to give you five hundred to tell me who she really is, and then you’ll never hear from me again.”

“How do I know you’re not with law enforcement or something. Trying to trick me?”

“Have you done something illegal?” She shook her head. “Never mind. Heavens to Betsy, I’m not the police.” She pulled some papers from her purse and pointed.

“That’s the article about the so-called accident that killed my father. You see,” she said, pointing to a photograph in the middle of the article, “that’s Amber’s picture. She shot my father in the back. Here’s his obituary.” She pointed again. “There’s my name. I’m his daughter.” Daisy Ann retrieved her license from her wallet and slid it across the table. “There’s proof. I’m just a grieving daughter.”

Martin took it all in and blew out a breath. “Shit. Yeah, I know her. She always was a piece of work. What do you want to know?”

“Her real name for starters. I know the real Amber Patterson’s dead. My detective found that out.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “On second thought, can I get a beer?”

Daisy Ann nodded and flagged down the waitress.

“Gimme a Stella,” he said, then looked down at the table, shredding a napkin as he spoke. “Her real name is Lana Crump. We went to school together back in Blue Springs, Missouri. She helped me out when I got in trouble but made a point of reminding me that I owed her. Lana never does anything out of the goodness of her heart. So I had no choice but to return the favor and got her a new identity.”

Daisy Ann was taking notes. “How’d you do that?”

He leaned in toward her, lowering his voice. “I work in vital records here. I could get in a lot of trouble if anyone found out…”

“Don’t worry. I told you, all I want is information.”

“I gave her a copy of a missing girl’s birth certificate—Amber Patterson.” He stopped when the waitress appeared with his beer, and after she set it down, he took a long swallow and began again. “Lana used it to get a new ID. I also hooked her up with a friend who got her a job. That’s the last I saw of her. To be honest, she gives me the creeps.”

“Why is that?”

He shrugged. “She was always clever, and she knew it. One step ahead of everyone else. But too big for her britches, you know? Felt like she deserved better. Her family was nice enough, but they didn’t have a lot of money. Not the kind of money she wanted, anyway. Dad owned a dry cleaner. She had to work there on the weekends, and she hated it. I left right after high school, so I wasn’t around anymore but I heard some stuff.”

“What stuff?”

He raised an eyebrow. “She got knocked up by Matthew Lockwood and then accused him of rape. The Lockwoods have lots of money. Poor guy went to prison until Lana’s own mother came forward and said she’d been lying. Lana was pissed off that Matthew wouldn’t marry her. Then I heard he got stabbed while locked up and is in a wheelchair now.” He shook his head. “I definitely wouldn’twant to cross her. She called me and said she needed to leave town. That she needed a new identity. There was an outstanding warrant for her in Missouri for lying in court.”

Daisy Ann was stunned although she didn’t know why anything should shock her about this vile woman. “Did she have the child?”

“Yeah. Left him behind when she bolted. I guess Matthew has him.”

“Do her parents still live there?”

“Far as I know.”

She pushed the envelope toward him. “Thank you. I really appreciate your help. Can you write down the address of the Lockwoods as well as her parents?” She pushed the pad of paper toward him and handed him her pen.

He took the pen and looked up at her. “I don’t know the Crumps’ address, but their dry cleaners is downtown on Main Street. Five Star Cleaners.”

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