were moving around, the taller one slowing to serve, the other hopping and snorting to receive. The rest of the room was basically floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. In the flickering light, the only things I could see on the shelves were videocassettes and trophies.
Hebert popped the cap from a bottle of Miller's Genuine Draft with a church key. 'I know these fellers are twistoffs, but I cut my racquet hand on one once, and I've been shy ever since.'
I took the beer from him, no mention of a glass being made. Hebert picked up a remote-control device, but waited while the point was being played on the screen.
'Watch me crush this one.'
I did, realizing the bigger guy was a younger Hebert. He took a ball that bounced near his eyes and swept it away crosscourt, beyond the reach of the opponent with dark hair.
'That was match point against me there. Survived that and went on to take the set seven-six in the tiebreaker. Lordy, old Harold did give me trouble with that moonball of his.'
Without looking at the remote device, Hebert hit stop and then off. Pushing a third button caused the recessed lights at the tops of the bookshelves to grow brighter.
He palmed the device lovingly before setting it down. 'Littlefel1er does about everything for you except wash the windows. Now, what can I do for you?'
'Maybe answer a few questions?'
'Sure, sure.' He curled into the Eames chair and reached for his drink. 'Have a seat.'
I angled a velvet wingback that probably once felt at home in the room and sat down.
Up close and well lit, Hebert's features were strong but lined, the year-round tan like the patina on the surface of an antique. The ready smile reminded me of locally produced car commercials, the only detraction other than age being a swipe line through his left eyebrow. He took a healthy swig of what looked more and more like Scotch.
'You know I've been asked to look into the threats to your wife.'
This time he grinned without showing his teeth and put down the drink. 'Tell you what, John.'
'What?'
'Let's not dance around too much, okay? I know Alec and Ines went to see you, and I also know that Maisy near pitched a fit over it till she met you. By this afternoon, though, she seemed to think you were an idea whose time had come. I figure that if I was playing in your shoes, I'd wonder how come the younger husband of the older rich lady isn't too concerned about all this. How am I doing so far?'
'Forty-love.'
The ready smile again. 'You play?'
'Hacked at it when I was in the army.'
'Too bad. It was a great game, twenty years ago. Solid American players coming up. Bob Lutz, Roscoe Tanner, Jeff Borowiak. That Borowiak, he had a huge serve, a real stud who could blow you off the court. Smart too. Took the NCAA the year before Connors beat Tanner.'
To keep the conversation going, I said, 'Wasn't Laver the dominant one in those days?'
'Yeah, but most of the Aussies were good. Laver, Newcombe, Rosewall, Roche. We were all using sixteen- gauge string by then, and some of us even went to double stringing. We called it 'spaghetti,' winding another string around the basic one? Put tremendous spin on the ball before it got banned by WCT and then by individual tournaments too.'
Hebert shook his head and laughed inwardly. 'Yeah, a great sport, one of the few you can stay with no matter how old you get. And it surely does beat stumbling on gopher holes around eighteen greens just to have an excuse for getting drunk on the nineteenth.'
He scoffed a little more Scotch, apparently not feeling the need for an excuse but not really showing any effect from the booze either.
I said, 'How long since you retired?'
'Retired? 'Retired,' now, that's a kind word, John, and I thank you for using it. I had to hang up the serious game at thirty-one, which if you're counting was seven years back. But it's not like you work for a corporation and build up a pension and stock plans and all. Nossir, it's get some backers, get in, and get what you can, because the show's over awful fast. Hey, now, I can't really complain, you understand? I had the brass ring for a while there.'
Hebert set down the drink to count on his fingers. 'One French Open, finalist at Wimbledon, semis three years running at Forest Hills. But what I had was the serve and the crosscourts, like you saw on that tape there. When the old rotator cuff went…'
He moved his shoulder in a very slow-motion serve. I could hear a crickling noise that had nothing to do with the starching of his shirt.
Hebert shrugged. 'That was all she wrote.'
'Can you still play?'
'Lordy, no. That is, not play play. You know the difference between, say, a Corvette and a Prelude?'
I didn't know if he was aware I drove a Honda and was toying with me, so I said, 'No.'
'Well, your Corvette, now, that's a sports car. But your Prelude, now, that's just a sporty car, get me?'
'The difference between an athlete and somebody who's just athletic.'
'There you go. Well, I'm a Prelude that knows it used to be a Corvette. Oh, I'm happy to go out and shuck my way through a celebrity tournament for charity and all, but I can't really play no more, no more.'
'And this has just what to do with the threats to your wife?'
Hebert finished his drink and got up immediately. 'Another?'
I'd barely touched the Miller's. 'Not just yet, thanks.'
Fridge, rattle of fresh cubes, the neck of bottle clinking against rim of glass. I took in his trophies. Platters, cups, occasionally the racquet and player in metal outlined against a ceramic background. Hebert returned to his chair. 'This all has to do with Maisy like this: I'm her husband. She used to have some doctor from Europe who died, but I'm it now. She's quite a woman, Maisy, but she gets an idea in her head, and it's Katy-Bar-the-Door, you think you're gonna change her mind. Like the players on the tour today.'
'I'm sorry?'
'The players today. They verbalize everything. Take 'first serve percentage.' John, do you know I never, ever heard anybody say that all the time I played? Nossir, all you'd say to yourself then was 'I hope to Christ I can get this next one in.' Now they actually plan their matches around percentage and tendency and all. I suppose it does make sense. We plan everything else, why not 'first serve percentage'?'
'Or death.'
Taking a slug, Hebert said, 'Right, right. That's my point. Maisy's got this idea she can save the world by encouraging people to help each other die peaceable. Fine by me. I'm not about to go threatening her about it. I'm happy as can be. You know why?'
'No.'
'Take any professional athlete – tennis, football, you name it. Once you've seen Paree, it's tough to give that up. Tougher than kicking drugs, I'm told by those who've known both pretty well. But your body, this thing that's made your fortune, sooner or later it lets you down, John. It goes and gets old on you.
'Now, I never held on to a dime longer than it took to order another round for the house. But it turns out I'm one of the lucky ones. Wasn't a year I was out of the tournaments, with not too many options staring me in the face, when I met up with Maisy. Boy, I was just plain dazzled by her. Don't know what she saw in me other than the usual stuff that the gossips'll spread, and there'd sure be some truth to that.'
Hebert grinned. 'I learned two things on the tour, John. How to serve and how to bed a woman. You've got to practice both every day, and I can still do the one to beat the band. But Maisy also provides for me.'
He waved his hand around the room. 'This used to be some kind of library. Well, she let me turn it into a shrine. A place I feel comfortable, like old St. Francis enjoying his sainthood before the pope declared it for him. I get everything I want out of this relationship, and I don't have to speak nice with old fogies that couldn't hit a dead hog with the sweet spot on a windless day. Nossir, I don't have to worry about tips or the IRS or club ladies getting fussy because I haven't made a move to lift their skirts. A lot of players I knew – good ones, too, John. Tough, chew-your-leg-off competitors – they've got to worry about those things. Not me. And if you think I'd piss in the well by threatening Maisy, you've got another think coming.'
'Why would I think that?'
