The Narrows

are no coincidences.
    From the balcony I heard a cough. I knew it was the woman next door smoking on her balcony. I found her very curious and kept somewhat of a watch on her whenever I was staying at the Double X. She wasn't much of a smoker and she seemed to go out on the balcony only when a private jet was coming into a parking stall. Sure, some people like to watch planes. But I thought she was up to something and that made me all the more curious. I thought maybe she was spotting marks for the casinos or maybe other gamblers.
    I got up and walked out through the door. As I stepped out I looked to my right and saw my neighbor throw something backward into her apartment. Something she didn't want me to see.
    "Jane, how you doing?"
    "Fine, Harry. Haven't seen you around lately."
    "I've been gone a couple days. What do we have out here?"
    I looked across the parking lot to the tarmac. Another sleek black jet had parked next to its twin. A matching black limo was waiting near the jet's stairs. A man wearing a suit, sunglasses and a maroon turban was coming out of the plane. I realized I was ruining Jane's surveillance if that was a camera or set of binoculars she tossed back into her place when she saw me.
    "The sultan of swing," I said, just to be saying something.
    "Probably," she said.
    She took a drag on her cigarette and coughed again. I knew she wasn't a smoker. She smoked so it would look plausible for her to be on the balcony watching rich men and their airplanes. She also didn't have brown eyes-I had seen her on the balcony one day when she'd forgotten to put in the tinted contacts-and her hennaed black hair was probably not the real color either.
    I wanted to ask her what she was up to, what the game or the con or the scheme was. But I also liked our balcony-to-balcony conversations and I wasn't a cop anymore. And the truth was that if Jane-I didn't know her last name-was in the business of separating those rich men from some of their riches, then down deep I couldn't work up a good deal of outrage over it. The whole city was built on the same principle. You roll the dice in the city of desire and you get what you deserve.
    I sensed something intrinsically good about her. Damaged but good. One time when I brought my daughter to the apartment we ran into Jane on the steps and she stopped to talk to Maddie. The next morning I found a little stuffed panther on the doormat next to my paper.
    "How's your daughter?" she asked, as if she knew my thoughts.
    "She's good. The other night she asked me if the Burger King and the Dairy Queen were married."
    Jane smiled and I saw that sadness in her eyes again. I knew it had something to do with kids. I asked her something I had been thinking about for a long time.
    "You got kids?"
    "One. She's a little older than yours. I'm not with her anymore. She lives in France."
    That was all she said and I left it at that, feeling guilty because of what I had in my life and because I knew before I asked the question that I was tempting the grief in her. But my question prompted her to ask one she had probably been holding on to for a while, too.
    "Are you a cop, Harry?"
    I shook my head.
    "Was. In L.A. How'd you know that?"
    "Just a guess. I think it was the way I saw you walking with your daughter out to your car. Like you were ready to jump on anything that moved. Anything bad."
    I shrugged. She had pegged me. "I thought that was kind of nice," she added. "What do you do now?"
    "Nothing really. I'm thinking about it, you know."
    "Yes."
    We were suddenly becoming more than neighbors exchanging superficial conversation.
    "What about you?" I asked.
    "Me? I'm just waiting on something."
    So much for that. I knew that was the end of the line in that direction. I turned from her and watched another sultan or sheik start his way down the jet's steps. The limo driver was waiting with the door open. It looked to me like the driver had something under his jacket, something he could pull out if the going got tough. I looked back at Jane.
    "I'll see you, Jane."
    "Okay, Harry. Say hi to her for me."
    "I will. You be careful."
    "You, too."
    Back at the dinette I tried Buddy Lockridge once more and got the same result. Nothing. I picked up the pen and drummed it impatiently on my notepad. He should've answered by now. I wasn't getting concerned. I was getting annoyed. The reports on Buddy were that he was unreliable. That was not something I had time for.
    I got up and went to the kitchenette