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I was sitting in my office, enjoying my first cup of Louis Cyr (“Canada’s strongest coffee”) – and my last until Hank returned with a new package. I was also wondering about my next case (if any): a lost dog? a cat in a tree? a stolen stamp collection? The answer arrived in the form of a well-dressed man with white hair and a cane. Obviously he met my preferred criterion for clients: senior citizenhood.
“Mr. Tuff, I’m Hardy Service. You may have heard of me. I was a tennis champion years ago.”
The name sounded familiar. I hoped I wasn’t confusing him with the poet of the Gold Rush. I wondered if I should ask for his autograph.
“How may I help you, Mr. Service?”
“Call me Ace. As you see, I now walk with a cane. Someone keeps stealing them. They are expensive to replace and sometimes it is difficult to get one of just the right length.”
I had never thought about canes having to fit like shoes or trousers, but I suppose they do. Everything is expensive, but canes more so because the large majority of people don’t buy them, unlike food or clothing or toilet paper.
“How many have you had stolen?”
“Since they began disappearing four months ago, five.”
“From where are they stolen?”
“Everywhere: a restaurant, a store, a church, even my home. I keep a spare, so that I won’t have to hobble around without one.”
“A limp can be rather distinguished,” I consoled him, “and a cane is more dignified – and less expensive – than crutches.”
That afternoon I visited Mr. Service’s house, a small, neat, clean place containing a number of expensive-looking trophies. “My wife died three years ago. I should move, but – .” I offered my condolences. Hanging in various places were bits of netting with signs on them giving places and dates.
“When I won my first tournament, I cut a piece from the net, the way a basketball team sometimes does when it wins, but the officials said it ruined the net and made me pay for it and it was expensive, so I bought an old net and each time I won I cut a piece from it and labelled it.” It was an unusual way to decorate a house.
I also saw a pail full of tennis balls. “some people like their autographs on balls and it is difficult to write on a curved surface, so I keep a few ready,” I had never realized the difficulties of celebrity.
Ace produced cups of coffee, not Louis Cyr, but not bad.
“I notice a man in several photos with you. Who is he?”
