Cece opened a new window on her screen, then pulled a Post-it from her pink dispenser and wrote down their name and number. “L.A. Bell. But I don’t really think they’re going to give out that kind of information.”

“Wanna bet?” I asked, giving her a wink as I took the Post-it back to my desk.

I immediately dialed the customer service number, going through the automated options until a mere fifteen minutes later I was connected to a real person.

“L.A. Bell, this is Jeff speaking, how may I help you?”

“Hi, Jeff. This is…Carol. Carol Brady. Listen, I have a problem.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, Miss Brady. What can I do for you?”

“I’m knocked up.”

There was a slight pause on the other end. Then, “Oh. I…well…oh.”

“That’s right. With child, bun in the oven, in a family way, one condom short of a bikini body.”

Again with the awkward pause. “Er, ma’am, I’m not really sure what I can—”

“Jeff, I’m gonna level with you,” I said, plowing right over him. “When I saw that positive pregnancy test, I may have said a few things. Things I shouldn’t have. Things about my boyfriend not being able to keep it in his pants long enough to roll a condom on. Things that, quite frankly, hurt my boyfriend Mike pretty bad. He left me, Jeff.”

“Uh…I’m sorry to hear that, but Miss Brady, I don’t really—”

“You got a dad, Jeff?”

“What?”

“A father. You have one, Jeff?”

“Um. Yeah.”

“I bet he took you to baseball games, didn’t he, Jeff?”

“Sure. I guess so.”

“And taught you how to ride your bike. How to tie your shoes. I bet he even taught you how to wipe your own tushie, Jeff.”

“Uh…”

“Here’s the thing. My baby won’t have that. Poor little Bobby’s gonna grow up fatherless unless I can find Mike and apologize. That’s where you come in.”

“I do?” he squeaked.

“Look, last night Mike calls saying he’s leaving L.A. for good. But the caller ID was blocked. I have no idea where he is. If I could find out where he was calling from, I might be able to stop him before he makes a terrible mistake.”

He paused so long on the other end I thought maybe he’d hung up.

“Jeff? You still there?”

“I feel for your situation, ma’am, but we can’t give out addresses of other clients.”

“I don’t even need his address. Just…can you tell me the name of the person who owns the number?”

“I’m not sure that’s in keeping with our policy…”