Page 16 of Sassy Surrogate
For the tiniest second, I hesitate. “I need whatever you can find about a Ms Danica Brand.” I reel off her home address and the name of the company she’s been fired from. “I need it fairly urgently, please.”
I can clearly hear the scratching of pen on paper. “All good, sir. I’ll get it to you as quick as I can.”
“Thanks, Jensen.”
Hanging up, I get to my feet and go over to the wet bar in my office. When it comes to business, I’m ruthless when I need to be. But here I am, feeling like a bastard for invading this woman’s privacy. The clink of the glass bottle against the crystal glass is loud in the quiet, and a wave of loneliness catches me unawares.
I enjoy my own company and generally have no problem being on my own, but tonight an unusual melancholy washes over me. Finally, I give up all hope of actually getting any work done today. I’m fighting a losing battle here and am only getting more annoyed with myself.
Picking up my glass, I head for the bedroom. Maybe a shower will make me feel better. Putting the television on in the background, I shed my suit and am about to make my way into the bathroom when my phone rings on the nightstand. I see Jensen’s name on the display and anticipation rushes through me.
“Jensen. That was quick.”
He laughs. “That’s why you pay me the big bucks, Bossman.”
This time it’s my turn to laugh. I do pay him higher than industry standard, but he’s worth every last penny. I’ve never known anyone else who can dig out information like this man.
“What’ve you got for me?”
“Well, the lady in question is pretty much an open book. If she’s hiding anything, then she has mad skills because I can’t find any of the usual things that people hide. The worst I’ve found is a couple of traffic fines.” He pauses a moment, and I hear someone speaking in the background. “A moment, sir.”
I hear a rapid-fire conversation in the background, but before long he’s back. “My apologies, Mr Bailey.” This time I hear shuffling of paper. “Ah, yes. Here it is. There was something I found relating to the father. Unlike his daughter, he has a rap sheet that reads like a telephone directory. Mainly petty crime, but there was a couple of blips on the radar I thought I’d mention.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“Seems he’s fallen in with a notorious loan shark. He’s gotten in deep on more than one occasion and done some ‘jobs’ to pay off the debt. Currently though, he’s in for roughly two hundred and fifty thousand, and my sources tell me his marker’s been called, no ‘jobs’ accepted on this one.”
“I have no idea where you get your information, and I’m thinking I don’t want to know. But that was good work. Thanks, Jensen. Oh, one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“Do you have a contact number for me?”
“I do, yes.” He rattles off a cell number. “But I’ve emailed the full file through to you, and the number is in there too.”
“Great. Thanks, Jensen. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem, Mr Bailey. Always happy to help.”
Heath & Graham
HEATH
After our conversation, I take my shower, mulling over the information I’ve just received. The news about her father isn’t ideal, but since I will only need Danica Brand’s services as a surrogate, I guess it won’t really matter in the grand scheme of things.
I’m burning to talk to her, but by the time I return to my bedroom, I see it’s after ten p.m. Curious about where she went, I wonder if she’s returned home yet – not that it’s any of my business. It’s too late to call her anyway.
I head to my office and pull up the email Jensen sent and scan through the fairly short document. As he said, there isn’t a huge amount of information. But what’s there makes for interesting reading. I like what I read about Ms Brand. Pity about her father. When I’ve read through the report for the second time and found nothing more to be learned, I top up my glass before returning to my bedroom.
Restless, I try to occupy myself watching news, stock market indicators, and other financial news. When I find my attention wandering for the millionth time, I throw the remote down on the bed beside me in frustration. I loathe being unproductive, and today has been a complete write-off for me.
On impulse, I pick my phone up once more, and before I can think better of it, I call the number Jensen gave me. It rings twice before guilt sets in, and I’m about to hang up when the call connects.
“Hello?” comes the breathless greeting. Surprise has me mute, and I get a rather irritate, “Hello? Dad, if that’s you, I’m hanging up.”
That has my tongue untwisting itself. “Good evening, is this Ms Danica Brand speaking?”
A beat of silence follows my question. “Who is this?” she asks, suspicion rife in her tone.
