The Narrows

shook his head. I watched Jane get in her car and back out. I wondered if it was the last time I would see her. I wondered if my telling her I had been a cop had spooked her and made her split. Maybe she had heard some of my conversation with Agent Walling through the thin walls.
    Buddy's comments about the bureau reminded me of something.
    "You know, when you get back there they're going to want to talk to you."
    "About what?"
    "About your GPS. They found it."
    "Wow, great! You mean it wasn't Finder? It was Shandy?"
    "Think so. But the news isn't all that great, Buddy."
    "How come?"
    I unlocked the Mercedes and we got in. I looked at Buddy as I was starting the engine.
    "All your waypoints were wiped out. There's only one on it now and you won't catch any fish there."
    "Ah, goddamnit! I should've known."
    "Anyway, they're going to ask you all about it and all about Terry and that last charter. Just like I did."
    "So they're running behind you, huh? Playing catchup. You're the man, Harry."
    "Not really."
    I knew what was coming. Buddy turned in his seat and leaned toward me.
    "Take me with you, Harry. I'm telling you I can help. I'm smart. I can figure things out."
    "Put your seat belt on, Buddy."
    I jumped into reverse before he got a chance and he almost went into the dashboard.
    We headed over to the strip and slowly made our way down to the Bellagio. It was early evening and the sidewalks were cooling off and getting crowded. I saw that the overhead trams and walkways were becoming full. The neon from every facade on the street was lighting dusk up like a brilliant sunset. Almost. Buddy continued to lobby me for a part in the investigation but I fended him off at every turn. After we pulled in around the huge front fountain and under the casino's giant entry portico I told the valet man that we were just picking somebody up and he directed me to a curb, telling me not to leave the car unattended.
    "Who we picking up?" Buddy asked, new life in his voice.
    "Nobody. I just said that. Tell you what, you want to work with me, Buddy? Then stay here in the car for a few minutes so they won't tow it away. I need to run in here real quick."
    "What for?"
    "To see if somebody's here."
    "Who?"
    I jumped out of the car and closed the door without answering his question because I knew with Buddy that every answer led to another question and then another and I didn't have time for that.
    I knew the Bellagio like I knew the turns on Mul-holland Drive. This was where Eleanor Wish, my ex-wife, made her living, and where I had watched her do so on more than one occasion. I quickly made my way through the plush casino, around the orchard of slot machines and to the poker room.
    There were only two poker tables working. It was very early. I quickly scanned the thirteen players and did not see Eleanor. I checked the podium and saw the table manager was a man I knew from coming here with Eleanor and then hanging out and watching while she played. I went over.
    "Freddy, what's shaking?"
    "A lot of ass shaking around here tonight."
    "That's good. Gives you something to look at."
    "I'm not complaining."
    "Do you know, is Eleanor coming in?"
    It was Eleanor's habit to let the table managers know if she intended to come in and play on a particular night. Sometimes they would save places at tables of high rollers or higher skilled players. Sometimes they would set up private games. In a way, my ex was a secret Vegas attraction. She was an attractive woman who was damn good at poker. That presented a challenge to men of a certain kind. The smart casinos knew this and played to it. Eleanor was always treated well at the Bellagio. If she needed anything-from a drink to a suite to a rude player removed from a table-she got it. No questions asked. And that was why she usually played here on the nights she played.
    "Yeah, she's coming in," Freddy told me. "I don't have anything for her right now but she'll be coming along."
    I waited before hitting him with another question. I had to finesse this. I leaned on the railing and casually watched the dealer at the hold'em table put down the final deal of the hand, the cards scraping on the blue felt like quiet little whispers. Five people had stayed in for the whole ride. I watched a couple of their faces when they looked at the last card. I was watching for tells but didn't see any.
    Eleanor had told me once that the real players call the last card in hold'em the "river" because it gives you life or