Free The Unbidden Truth by Kate Wilhelm Page B

delivery by a midwife, who also could be dead by now, or has had three name changes.”
    There were a few more details, then Bailey saluted and ambled out.
    â€œWhat do you want me to do?” Shelley asked after Bailey left.
    Barbara’s first thought was: You’ve done quite enough, but she did not voice it. Anyone who had heard her father argue a case would know that Shelley hadn’t had a chance against him once he had decided to place Carrie in Darren’s apartment. “Not much to do yet, not until we get more information,” Barbara said. “I received a new packet from the D.A.’s office this morning. I’ll go over that and see if there’s anything worth following up on. When we get the ex-wives’ addresses, I’d like you to tackle the last two, and I’ll go after wife number one. Meanwhile, if you could go to Martin’s today, that would be helpful.”
    â€œNo problem,” Shelley said. “I know it’s early, but it does look bad, doesn’t it? I hate that. I like her.”
    â€œIt’s early,” Barbara agreed. She also agreed that it continued to look as bad as her first assessment had been. “Dad always advised that an attorney shouldn’t become attached to a client. One can break your heart.”
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    On Wednesday they had the names of the ex-wives, one in Seattle, one in Portland and one, Inez Carnero, in El Cajon, California. Barbara had to look it up on a map.
    â€œI’ll take her, if you don’t want to,” Shelley said, regarding the map with Barbara. El Cajon was in the San Diego area and sure to be as hot as Arizona had been.
    â€œNope. A deal’s a deal. I’ll manage. Are you sure Alex won’t mind if you’re gone a couple of days?”
    Shelley looked surprised and a little indignant at the question. “He knows what I do, and that I might be gone from time to time.He’d never interfere with my work. I think it might be easier for me to drive than fly. Labor Day on Monday, you know.”
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    Barbara was in a foul mood by the time she checked into a motel that Friday evening. She had been searched at the Eugene airport, again in San Francisco, had a bumpy airplane ride, and endured gridlock on the interstate from the San Diego terminal to El Cajon. An all-day trip from hell, she thought irritably. On Saturday she would talk to Inez Carnero, and on Sunday reverse her trip, and no doubt face the same kind of journey. Her room smelled of chemicals, and the air conditioner either blasted icy air or let the room get overheated.
    She stripped off her clothes, showered, put on her swimsuit and went out to the pool. It was crowded and so heavily chlorinated that she lasted only a minute or two. Life in the fast lane, she told herself, heading back in for another shower.
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    Inez Carnero’s house was a neat little stucco hacienda with a wide overhang, two palm trees in the front yard and on the edge of a golf course that was miraculously green. Nothing else visible was green. Even the palm fronds were a dusky olive color.
    Inez was a pretty woman not an inch over five feet tall, and to all appearances perfectly round. It was hard to tell because she was wearing a loose cotton print garment, splashed with red poppies, that reached her ankles. Her black hair was streaked with gray, done up in an elaborate coil with combs.
    â€œMs. Holloway? Come in. Come in,” she said. “You must be so hot, not used to our weather. And so overdressed.”
    Barbara was wearing cotton pants and a short-sleeved shirt neatly tucked in. But she felt overdressed.
    â€œI have a cold drink waiting for you,” Inez said, leading the way through a living room to a room at the back of the house. There was no air conditioning, but the room had a wall of windows all wide open, and a faint breeze wafted in bringing desert smells of heat and sand. The room was furnished with wicker chairs and a