"I saw them on a local morning news show," Jane explained. "The interviewer queried them about what movies they'd made, and both of them turned up their noses at films and said they preferred live theater. They listed a whole lot of plays that they'd been in. Neither the interviewer nor I had ever heard of any of them."

"But you've admitted already that you don't like live acting. And maybe those plays were never made into movies," Sh.e.l.ley said.

"No, I don't like live amateur acting. Come to think of it, though, I do prefer movies, especially when I can buy or rent them and fast-forward or stop them when the spaghetti water starts boiling over."

"So we're guessing that Gloria and John Bunting are a sort of third-rate Jessica Tandy and Hume Cronyn," Sh.e.l.ley said with the slightest hint of criticism of Jane's opinion.

"That's not as bad as it sounds," Jane explained. "Lots of people in any field of the arts can probably eke out a good living doing first-rate work and not gaining enormous fame from it. It's certainly true of writers. I've read a lot of good books by writers who aren't famous, and probably aren't rich, but who tell a good story. It's probably true of actors and artists as well. They make their own niche and fill it."

"I suppose that's right," Sh.e.l.ley said.

"So who are the caterers tonight?" Jane asked. "An outfit calling themselves 'The Ultimate Meal.' "

"Do you think it will be?"

"At least it's a better name than 'The Ultimate Snack.' "

The rehearsal that evening was a brief walk-through. The main purpose seemed to be to work out details of the play with the two young volunteer art school students who were preparing the single background set, the professional prop master (who was probably being paid), and the costumer (also paid, Jane and Sh.e.l.ley speculated), who needed to measure the actors. Apparently lighting would come later.

"And maybe a sound person to mike the actors," Sh.e.l.ley commented idly.

"I thought real actors had to have the voices to project without a mike?" Jane asked Sh.e.l.ley.

"I guess so, at least this time. If it was something like a musical review, I imagine they would need microphones."

Jane grinned. "Thank goodness that we don't have to learn all about this. All you and I need to consider is food."

As the actors were walking through the first scene again, Bill Denk said, "Madam and sir, Cook says luncheon will be ready at one o'clock."

"I asked her to be ready at quarter to one," Ms. Bunting said in the haughty voice of Mrs. Edina Weston.

"I'll remind her, madam," he said and turned briefly to the audience and said, "The old trout" "What did you say?" Imry asked.

"Said? Nothing," Bill said.

Jane thought it was funny but also a bit spooky that Bill Denk could cast his voice to the audience but not be heard on stage.

There was no need for Jane and Sh.e.l.ley to be introduced to the newcomers, but they were sura prised to see one familiar figure. It was Tazz from the needlepoint lesson they'd taken the day before.

Tazz greeted them after putting a dress bag over an adjoining chair with great care. "I didn't expect to run into you two here," she said with a smile as she sat down in the back row of the theater, where Jane and Sh.e.l.ley had taken refuge until the caterers arrived.

"Nor did we expect you," Jane said with pleasure.

"We're here to test out caterers for my husband's business dinners," Sh.e.l.ley explained. "They're just making snack suppers for the cast and crew. And you, Tazz? What's your role here?"

"I do the costumes for most of the local productions, and a few costume parties. Mostly around Halloween."

"How did you happen into such an interesting job?" Jane asked.

"I was studying accounting, and decided I'd probably slit my throat from sheer boredom if I had to be an accountant. So, since I'd always sewed my own clothes, I started sewing for other people. Word got around that I was good at period stuff. So-here I am."

"Do you make all the costum'es for every play and party?" Sh.e.l.ley asked.

"No. Only special things I don't already have warehoused. When I can, I build in extra hemroom, and bosom room in the women's clothes in particular. Sometimes I rent from other costume places if something is too elaborate to use often."

"I just love hearing about other people's jobs," Jane exclaimed. "I've never met anyone who does what you do. I'll bet you have good stories. Sometime when we're all free of this job, I hope you'll have more time to tell us about your experiences."

"I'd be glad to. Now I need to snag everyone for measurements. I guess I'll see you two at tomorrow's needlepoint cla.s.s."

"Yes, and Ms. Bunting is joining us as well."

"I thought the cla.s.s was limited to five students," Tazz replied.

"We got her in because she was once in a play with Sylvia Sidney," Jane explained.

"Oh, that makes sense. I have a copy of Sylvia Sidney's needlepoint book," Tazz said. "I'd love to hear what she was really like, aside from acting and needlepointing."

"I probably have the same book," Jane said. "Did she do more than one?"

"I have no idea," Tazz said.

"I'm sure we would all like to hear what Ms. Bunting knows about her," Sh.e.l.ley agreed. "What's in the dress bag?"

"Ms. Bunting's dress for the first act. I already met with her at her hotel, and it was easy to size her up without taking all the measurements.

Later, we'll try it on and get the director's approval. And he better approve it. It's going to look grand on her."

As she spoke, Bill Denk, using his old-man voice, returned to the stage. "Madam, Cook says she will have luncheon ready at a quarter before one."

"Of course she will. That was what she was told," Ms. Bunting, as Edina Weston, replied.

"Bossy broad could have thanked me," he said to the theater.

Again, Imry questioned him. "Did you say something not in the script?"

Denk shrugged. "I don't think so."

"All right. I'll play along," Professor Imry said condescendingly. "But don't you try to get away with snide asides when we do this play for a real audience."

Bill just smiled.

Jane nudged Sh.e.l.ley and said quietly, "He's the only thing that might save this awful play."

Sh.e.l.ley nodded. "I wonder how he does it? I've never seen anyone who could throw his voice so well."

"And we both know he's going to keep doing it," Jane said.

Six.

Tazz asked Jane to keep an eye on the dress bag and walked up on the stage. "Forgive me for the interruption, Professor Imry, but I'm the costumer, Tazz Tinker, and I have things I need to tell the cast. Are they all here?"

"We're missing a few still. Denny's not here yet. And the prop person will be fifteen minutes late."

"I don't need to dress the prop person." Imry gave an embarra.s.sed fake laugh.

"Okay, listen up, actors," Tazz went on, "I'll be measuring all but Ms. Bunting today. I've already found two dresses for her, providing the director agrees. When the measuring is done, I'll find the right size and period clothing for day wear and formal evening wear for the last scene. When each costume is ready to be worn, it will be signed for by the actor who wears it. You will all wear underarm shields that I provide for free. Both perspiration and deodorant are the worst enemies of fabric. If you sweat on the fabric or get makeup on the collar, you will be asked to get it dry-cleaned. If I rent it from a supplier, the college will pay for cleaning and laundry. If it belongs to me, it will be at your own cost. If the stain process doesn't work, you pay for the garment."

"I don't think this is the usual way costumers deal with cast clothing," Imry claimed.

"It's the way I work. Take it or leave it," Tazz said. "If you'd done your homework, you'd have known my conditions of providing costumes. I sent you a copy of my rules and you signed them. Now, Professor Imry, I read an early version of the script and didn't notice a police officer as a member of the cast. Has that been fixed?"

"No. The script doesn't call for one."

Tazz looked at him with raised eyebrows. "This is a murder mystery script. In it the butler kills the younger son. You don't need a police presence?"

"That's a.s.sumed to take place after the play is over," Imry said, clearly uncomfortable with her question.

Tazz turned to Jane and Sh.e.l.ley, who had brought along the dress bag and were now sitting in the first row of audience chairs, stage left. Tazz rolled her eyes at them, then turned to Imry. "I see," she said in a flat, calm voice. "I'll measure the male actors first, since there are only the maid and Joani I need to get sizes for. Ms. Bunting'scostumes are already fitted. Now tell me your real names so I can draw up the contracts."

"We're using the actors' stage names," Imry said.

"I don't contract with fictional characters," Tazz said with a loud laugh. "Now, I recognize Mr. Bunting. Tell me who the other men are."

Imry was forced to forgo his rule. He introduced all the actors by their real names.

"And the man standing just off stage?" Tazz asked. "Is he a backstage worker?"

"No. He's just here to observe."

Jane whispered to Sh.e.l.ley, "Maybe he's a reporter and Imry doesn't want anyone to know it."

"He's not taking notes," Sh.e.l.ley replied.

"Maybe he has a tape recorder in his pocket," Jane responded. "Or ..."

"Or what?"

"Never mind. It was a silly idea. If I turn out to be right, I'll tell you what it was."

Just then, Denny arrived, fl.u.s.tered. "I had an exam that ran late. That's why I couldn't get here till now. I'm sure I aced it."

The first walk-through rehearsal went well, as far as Jane and Sh.e.l.ley could tell, except for Bill Denk's improvising. There were no breaks, and the first two acts were done by the time the caterers arrived.

Tazz, who had clearly taken a strong dislike to Imry, sat at the table questioning him as they ate. "So there isn't a police officer. When I read the script, there wasn't any explanation of why the butler murdered the younger son, either."

"That's for the audience to decide for themselves," Imry said smugly.

"Oh, like sophisticated artsy novels that leave the ending unresolved? That's plain lazy writing and too pretentious for the likes of me. I hate books like that," Tazz commented as she wolfed down her snack dinner. She appeared to be anxious to get on with the measuring.

"I read a book like that recently," Ms. Bunting chimed in. Her nap seemed to have completely revived her. "I threw it in the trash."

"Did you throw my script in the trash, too?" Imry asked, obviously looking for an argument.

"I know which side my bread is b.u.t.tered on," Ms. Bunting said with a wicked smile. "I simply memorized it. That's my job."

"I don't read many books," Joani put into the conversation, looking around for someone to express admiration of her view. Everybody ignored her.

"This is good food, ladies," Jake, who played the younger son, said to Jane and Sh.e.l.ley, apparently eager to start a harmless discussion.

Both the first two caterers 'had made sure to provide for hungry vegetarians, which Sh.e.l.ley was pleased to note in her files. The caterer lastnight had provided raw vegetables with several dipping sauces. Tonight the vegetables were lightly sauteed and served in one large bowl with a heating element under it. The dressing was a bit bland and could have used a good dose of fresh pepper, Jane whispered to Sh.e.l.ley.

Tazz took her empty plate and gla.s.s back to the catering room and lurked until John Bunting had finished eating. She s.n.a.t.c.hed his plate to return as well and said, "Come on, Mr. Bunting. I need to measure you."

He leered at her.

Jane sat down with Ms. Bunting. "Tazz is one of the people in the needlepoint cla.s.s. You'll see her again tomorrow morning."

"She's a strong-minded girl. I'll be curious to see what kind of sampler she's doing."

"Have you started yours yet?" Jane asked.

"Barely. I had such fun putting those pretty colors in the jewelry thing you girls bought me. I'll treasure it forever. I've done only one square. I'm sticking with simple squares for my first effort."

Tazz gathered all the men in one large dressing room. "We're not having any witty remarks about inseams or dressing left or right. Got it? Just tell me the size of your trousers and jackets. I will measure across your shoulders and get the correct arm length. You'll all wear casual trousers circa 1930, shirts, and either jackets or sweaters for the first two acts. The third act will be formal wear. White starched shirts, white formal jackets, black trousers with a silk stripe down the sides."

She finished this process quickly and efficiently, noting all the measurements in a notebook she carried.