Murder at the Opera - Margaret Truman [7]
The receptionist signed him in and paged Harriet McKay, who appeared almost instantaneously, welcomed him, and led Mac back through a maze of corridors and doors.
“Quite a well-dressed setup you have here,” Mac said, taking in room after room of costumes, wigs, props, and passing through one of the three rehearsal areas, where a young blond woman practiced a score on an ebony grand piano.
“It’s a wonderful facility and we’re fortunate to have it,” McKay said pleasantly. “We’re also delighted that you and President Burns have agreed to take part
“Is he here yet?”
“His office called. He’s running late. We’ll get you fitted first and on your way. It’s always a problem with the supers
They entered a relatively small room with two mirrored walls. An attractive young woman and a middle-aged man sitting in yellow director’s chairs stood at their entrance. Harriet introduced them as two of her fitters. She pointed to one of four doors. “You can use that room over there to get undressed
“Just my jacket and tie?” he asked.
“You’ll need to take off more than that,” she said. “You can leave on your shorts and socks. We’ll be fitting you for sandals, too. There’s a robe in there if you’ll be more comfortable
Mac returned wearing the robe.
McKay consulted notes on a clipboard. “You’ll be appearing in the first and third acts, a monk in Act I, a member of the firing squad in Act III, two different costumes. We’ll start with, nicely enough, Act I
The male fitter draped a heavy burlap robe over Mac’s shoulders and pinned it to better conform to his body. A pair of sandals with thin straps that wrapped around his calves up to his knees was next. “Comfortable?” the fitter asked.
Smith said, “No. I can still feel my feet
That outfit removed and labeled with Smith’s name and the act number, the female fitter brought out the costume for Act III, decidedly more elaborate than the monk’s burlap and sandals. Mac stood patiently as both male and female fitters fussed with breeches, leggings, a heavy jacket, clodhopper black shoes, and a bandoleer that crisscrossed his chest. There was much marking with a tailor’s chalk and pinning until the costumers were satisfied. The final item to be fitted was a red-and-gold cocked hat.
“You look splendid,” Harriet said.
Mac turned to examine himself in the large mirror. “That’s me?” he asked playfully.
“You’ll make a wonderful member of the firing squad,” Harriet said.
“I know a few people I wouldn’t mind having stand in front of a firing squad,” he said. “Thanks. This was less painful than I anticipated
As he said it, the president of the university, Wilfred Burns, was escorted into the room. “My, my,” he said, taking in Mac in his costume. “I’m seeing a while new side of you, Smith. Several, in fact
“Don’t get used to it,” Mac said. “But I do kind of like it.” He indicated his full-length image in one of the mirrors. “I might wear this to my classes, shake my students out of their lethargy
“Whatever works,” Burns said. “I must say that you’re a trouper, Mac
“And the same might be said for you,” Smith replied. “Your turn to be stuck with pins
Smith dressed quickly and was ready to leave before his boss emerged. Accompanied by Harriet McKay, he returned to the reception area, thanked her for her courtesies, and went to his car, where he used his cell phone.
“How did it go?” Annabel asked, a hint of suppressed mirth in her voice.
“Fine. Like being in a hospital. Strip to your shorts and put on a robe. At least it didn’t open in the back like hospital gowns. I’m fitted, Annie. I’m ready for my close-up
“Good. I’ll meet you at the 600 at six. We’ll grab something to eat there before your meeting at the Kennedy Center
“Okay. By the way, I was fitted by a very attractive young woman. I think she was impressed with my physique
“Uh-huh. Six at the 600—hunk!”
Smith went home before meeting