Key Service

By Rik Hunik

"Where are they?" Robert Jarvis muttered as he reached in the right-hand pocket of his pants and found no keys. He was about to leave for work, but he had locked himself out enough that he was conditioned to make sure he had his keys before stepping out of his apartment.

He checked his other pockets, including his suit coat and the coats in his closet. He looked on the bookshelf in the hallway, on the coffee table, in the dining room, on the kitchen counter and the fridge, on the night table by his bed, in the bathroom by the sink, and even in the dirty laundry hamper.

Flustered, but not yet angry, he pondered. He'd driven home from work last night and let himself in. His girlfriend, Marna, had picked him up for dinner, dancing, and drinking. He couldn't remember coming home. He could have lost his keys anywhere last night. He shrugged and headed for his desk to grab his spare set.

The doorbell rang.

Jarvis stopped short. Nobody ever called on him before work.

When he opened the door he found a man less than four feet tall, dressed in bluish-gray coveralls, with a matching baseball cap pulled down over his ears. A white patch on the front pocket, bordered in red, with red-stitched lettering, proclaimed "KEY SERVICE." The short man held up his hand. "Your keys, Mr. Jarvis." His voice had a lilting accent and his features an unplaceable foreign slant.

Mechanically, Jarvis reached out and took the proffered keys: "Uh, thanks. Where did you find them?"

"Under the seat of your girlfriend's car." He held out his hand, palm up. "That will be one dollar." He was polite but not friendly.

"Right." Jarvis dug out a loonie and handed it over. The coin disappeared into a pocket, and the short man walked away.

That was different, Jarvis thought as he locked his apartment. Fast service, but not with a smile. He glanced at his watch. He could still make it to work on time. He hooked his forefinger into the key ring and twirled the keys as he headed to his car.

Just last week, amidst his correspondence, he had received his annual envelope containing two small, plastic, numbered tags, admonishing the finder to call a 1-800 number or deposit the keys in any mailbox. He had put one on his key ring, dropped the other in his desk drawer with his spare keys, then tossed the rest of the contents into the trash.

He knew their little spiel by heart. The only part he cared about was the statement, "No payment necessary." The service had proved to be handy. Sure he lost his keys a few times every year but, if they were willing to return them for free, let them be chumps. He hadn't paid them a cent in going on ten years.

Except for that dollar he had paid today.

Selling insurance wasn't exciting work, but it kept him busy all morning, too busy to think about keys until after lunch. He was walking back to the office when he slapped his pocket and didn't feel the familiar lump. He had put his keys on the restaurant table to dig out change for a tip.

"Go ahead without me, Carl. I left my keys behind."

"Again?" Carl laughed and kept walking.

Jarvis spun around. Wendy, the waitress, would probably have them for him when he got there. It wouldn't be the first time.

Before he could take two steps, he had to stop to avoid colliding with a midget. The blue uniform and the hat were the same, even to the way he wore it down over his ears, but this guy was even shorter than the earlier one. The keys were the same, though. Jarvis took them.

"That'll be two dollars."

"Two dollars? It was only one dollar this morning, and I never paid anything before that."

"I know." The midget grinned humorlessly. "You better hand over the two dollars now, then read the fine print on your contract." He put one hand on his hip and held out the other, palm up.

"I could have got them myself."

"Two dollars."

Jarvis had no time to argue, and he felt self-conscious making a scene in public. It was only a couple bucks. He dug out a loonie and four quarters. The midget snatched them and disappeared into a forest of legs. Nobody else seemed to notice him.