“She said she wasn’t, kiddo,” said Frank.
“I’ll bet she is, Pops. I’ll bet she was just too shy to tell us. That’s why you didn’t recognize this Vanishing Point place. In art class they told us the vanishing point is where all the lines on a drawing meet. It sounds like a perfect name for a club.”
The Vanishing Point. You had to hand it to his daughter, Frank thought. Considering where their old man had come from they’d turned out damn bright. Of course it was a nightclub, or something similar. Mouse was a young singer, maybe just trying to get started. She’d landed this important gig in Vegas but didn’t have the bucks to get there. So she’d decided to hitch it across the desert.
“I mean,” Wendy was saying, “it’s so obvious. Anybody can see you’re good enough to sing professionally. I’m right, aren’t I?”
Mouse smiled enigmatically, then abruptly put a small hand to her forehead. Those expansive violet eyes closed tightly. Lines appeared on that perfect face.
“What’s wrong?” Wendy was suddenly concerned. “You okay?”
Mouse’s hand fell from her forehead and she managed another smile. “I just need to rest. My journey thus far has been a long and difficult one. Singing is exhausting.”
“Standing out in that heat would knock anyone for a loop.” Frank glanced at Alicia, who spoke up reluctantly.
“The big bed is in the back. It’ll be quieter there.” She tried to set her suspicions and concerns aside. “You lie down for as long as you like. Shall we wake you when we get to Baker?”
“Whatever you will be comfortable with,” Mouse replied as she stood. “I just need some sleep. And this.” She hefted the half-empty glass of lemonade.
“There are holders for glasses and stuff built into the headboard,” Wendy informed her. “They’re kinda neat. You won’t spill anything if we hit a bump. I’ll show you.” She scrambled to her feet.
Mouse followed, pausing and turning outside the bedroom door. “Thank you many times afresh. For your kindness and caring.”
“Hey, enough already,” said Frank. “We’ve got plenty of room and we were going the same way anyhow, right?”
“The same way. Yes.” Mouse wore an odd expression as she spoke.
“Thanks for the song.”
“I hope I may be able to sing for you again some time soon.” She followed Wendy into the bedroom.
Alicia waited until she was certain their guest couldn’t overhear before muttering to her husband. “Now, no matter what you think of her musical talents, Frank, that is one peculiar young woman.”
“Who’d you expect to find hitchhiking in the middle of the Mojave? Someone from your bridge club? Encounters like this are what makes life interesting.” He was feeling pleased with himself.
“More than interesting,” Alicia argued. “You’re fascinated by her. So are the children.”
“Aren’t you, sweetheart? Who knows? We may have given a helping hand to a budding star. With a voice like that she could be on the Carson show in a couple of months. Then we can say we picked her up in the back of beyond and gave her a hand when nobody knew who she was.” He paused, then added, “Don’t tell me she’s still got you worrying?”
Alicia leaned back in the captain’s chair. “Not worried, exactly. It’s just that she’s so strange.”
“This from a woman who lives in L.A.? The rest of the country thinks everybody who lives in Southern California is strange.”
“She must have some luggage somewhere.”
“I don’t remember that being in the Constitution. And in spite of what you’ve been thinking, she’s no doper.”
“How can you tell, Frank? How can you be sure?”
He thought fast. “If she was on something, regular, like an addict, there’s no way she could sing a song like that. You need real breath control and concentration.”
“You’re right.” Alicia sounded relieved. “I hadn’t thought of that.” Frank had the knack of always saying the right thing. Her husband wasn’t particularly brilliant, but he had a way of going right to the heart of a problem. As he’d once told her, he wasn’t smart enough to be distracted by subtleties. It was one of the things that had made him such a successful businessman. No, Mouse couldn’t have sung like that if she’d been high.
“Then let’s relax. We’ve decided what we’re going to do and everybody’s happy and we’ve even managed a good deed for the day. I wonder,” he said thoughtfully, “if she’d let us record some of her music. We can borrow your daughter’s tape recorder, if you can pry those earphones off her head for an hour or two.”
“If she’s really serious about a show business career she might not want somebody taping her compositions, Frank.”
He shrugged. “No harm in asking. I might even be able to help her out when we get home. We’ve got some pretty big names who shop in the Westwood and Valley stores. I could try to make a few contacts for her.”
“Let’s not get too involved, dear. We really don’t know anything about her yet.”
“There you go, worrying again. How could that hurt? You’ve seen how grateful she is just for a lift. She’s an interesting young gal who’s having a hard time making it. Her being a singer explains a lot. Some of these young people trying to break into the business can’t afford but one decent set of clothes. They travel in it, audition in it, perform in it, and sleep naked.” He lowered his voice further. “Wonder when’s the last time she had a decent meal.”
Alicia gave it one last try. “Frank, you’re a good-hearted man. It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you.” She reached across to pat his arm. “But you can’t go involving yourself in the problems of everyone you meet.”
“I’ve no intention of involving myself in the problems of everyone I meet. But I can be selective, can’t I? I wish there’d been someone to give the two of us a helping hand when we were starting out. Just because there wasn’t doesn’t mean I can’t help somebody if I’m given the chance.”
“You’ve helped already. You picked her up and you’re taking her closer to her destination. If Wendy’s right and this Vanishing Point is a club, I’m sure she’ll tell us when we get to the city. We can drop her off right by the front door. That’s a big enough favor to perform.”
“What’s the matter, Alicia? Don’t you like her? She could be our Wendy ten years older.”
“God forbid! Are you sure you haven’t been talking to those ‘big names’ you mentioned?”
He shook his head. “Relax, hon. I’m interested in stomach crunchers and basketballs and running shoes. Show biz ain’t for me. I’m smart enough to know that. People are always trying to get me to invest in their ‘projects.’ The only projects I’m interested in investing in are newer and bigger stores.” He blew her a quick kiss. “You’re all the bright life I want.”
They were both silent for a while. Then Frank gestured cheerfully toward the sign coming up fast on their right. “What we need is a break.”
Alicia frowned at the sand-scoured marker.
DEVIL’S PLAYGROUND
1 Mile
GAS—EAT
“I thought we weren’t going to stop until we got to Baker?”
“This’ll be more interesting.” He was slowing gradually, lining up with the off ramp. “The station in Baker’ll be full of screaming rug rats and overheated people with overheated tempers. This looks quiet.”
Alicia strained to see as they rolled up to the stop sign at the crest of the off ramp. “It looks dead. I don’t see anybody at all.”
3
THE STATION LOOKED like it had been built in the twenties or thirties, walls of local volcanic rock mortared together, an archaic arch reaching out to the twin pumps like a dirty stucco hand.
“Bet this was here on the old highway before the interstate was put through,” Frank commented as he pulled across the access road and up to the pumps. “We need some gas anyway if we’re going to run the rest of the way straight through to Vegas.”
Alicia checked the gauge and frowned. “But we just filled up back in Barstow. We haven’t come anywhere near far enough to burn up that much gas.”
