"Tone."
"Des?"
"Sid has called in sick."
"Yeah?"
"So you're up for a new customer."
Tone looked up with interest, "Me?"
Des looked a little uncertain, "There's nobody else," he admitted.
Tone didn't seem too put out by this less than ringing endorsement and beamed.
"Don't mess it up," warned Des."
"I won't," promised Tone. "Who is it?"
"Older guy. His wife … or rather, his wife to be, made the appointment. Reading between the lines, she's trying to polish up a rough diamond. Wants to make sure he looks the part for the honeymoon."
"Cool," said Tone.
"Play your cards right and this could be a big one," said Des. He looked as if he wanted to issue more orders but the bell on the door sounded at that moment and he settled for wagging an admonitory finger at Tone before darting out to see who had entered Blackston Dubay Gentlemen's Outfitters.
Tone grinned at his employer's back and hastened to put on his suit jacket and make sure that the knot on his tie was perfectly centred. It wasn't long before Des returned and beckoned to him to join him.
"Mr Jethro," said Des, "This is Mr Anthony. He will be looking after you, taking you on your sartorial journey," he paused to smile winningly at his new client but the smile froze and then shattered at the less than impressed look on Mr Jethro's face. He coughed, "Mr Anthony is one of our most experienced associates, you could not be in better hands."
Mr Anthony kept a straight face as he learned, for the first time, that Des thought so highly of him. "Thank you, Mr Desmond," he said solemnly, "You can count on me."
Mr Jethro coughed. It was a cough that suggested he was a man in a hurry. Mr Desmond took the hint, "Mr Anthony … why don't you begin?" He nodded graciously and sidled out of the shop. Mr Jethro watched him go and then swivelled to look at Mr Anthony who swallowed a little nervously before finding a welcoming smile.
"Good morning, Mr Jethro. Won't you come into the office? I can take your measurements and get an idea of your requirements." He bowed slightly and gestured for the client to go into the adjoining room. He had intended to walk in an appropriately stately manner but found himself scurrying after the brisk Mr Jethro who didn't seem to understand the notion of stateliness.
"Can I offer refreshments?" offered Mr Anthony. "We have iced water, fruit juice, green tea, blue …"
"Coffee," announced Mr Jethro.
"Of course, Sir. Coffee. Cream and sugar?"
"Black. "And give me a mug, not one of those tiny cups."
"Of course," Mr Anthony nodded gravely and decided not to offer the bite size brownies, somehow he knew they would be rejected. He poured the coffee and handed it to his client. Mr Jethro took a sip and nodded approvingly. "Now, Sir, I just need to take some details." He looked appraisingly at the customer, "I'd say that you're 6ft, about 160 pounds?"
"Yes."
Tony made sure not to look smug and tried something else, "And size 12 shoe?"
Mr Jethro nodded again.
"Excellent. Now, if you don't mind, I need to take the rest of your measurements." He whipped a tape measure and a note pad out of an inside pocket and advanced.
"Can't you guess?"
"I could," said Mr Anthony, "But here at Blackston Dubay we strive for perfection. You could say it's a motto. Our raison d'être."
"Hmph," said Mr Jethro. "And there's no need to call me Sir."
"Of course," said Mr Anthony. "Now, if you could just lift your arms."
Mr Anthony kept up a stream of inconsequential chatter as he measured every inch of his client. "I must say that you are in excellent condition."
"For a man of my age?" asked Mr Jethro drily.
Mr Anthony did not miss a beat, "For a man of any age," he said firmly. "Now, the inside leg …" he dropped to one knee and looked up, "Were you in the military at one time?"
"Huh?"
"You have such an erect stature," said Mr Anthony blandly.
"Marines," said Mr Jethro.
This time, Mr Anthony allowed the smug, knowing expression to show on his face and noticed that a grin showed fleetingly on Mr Jethro.
"That is excellent," said Mr Anthony as he took the last note and lightly patted Mr Jethro's shoulder to indicate he had finished. Mr Jethro's eyes narrowed as he considered this gesture. "Now," said Mr Anthony, "Perhaps you could explain what items of clothing you are interested in purchasing?"
"Everything."
"Everything?"
"Everything."
"And by everything, you mean …"
"Everything. My … fiancée feels that my wardrobe needs bringing up to date."
Mr Anthony looked at his client's white undershirt, polo shirt, brown slacks and plaid sports jacket and silently applauded her taste. "It's a classic look," he murmured non-committally.
"And I need some suits." A pained look showed on Mr Jethro's face.
"We specialise in suits," asserted Tony. "We source materials from Savile Row in London as well as from Paris and Milan." He sensed this might not be a selling point so hurriedly added, "And New York as well. You can be sure of the finest materials and the best craftsmanship."
"And evening wear," said Mr Jethro mournfully.
"Evening wear?"
"We're going on a world cruise for our honeymoon," said Mr Jethro through what looked like gritted teeth."
"Ah," said Mr Anthony, "Then you will definitely need evening wear. The social life on board ship is most exciting."
"Yeah. So I've heard," said Mr Jethro.
"Perhaps another coffee?" asked Mr Anthony with sudden inspiration, "While we look at some catalogues?"
Mr Jethro nodded agreement and they settled down. After an hour or so, Mr Jethro seemed to get bored with sleeve lengths, wool weights, tie widths and the rival merits of double and single breasted jackets. "How'd you get into this?" he asked as he waved a hand at the office with its pictures of male models and neat mounds of fabric swatches.
"Oh. I was in sports," said Mr Anthony, "Then I got injured and while I was recovering I did some sports modelling. Turned out I was better at modelling than I was at playing sport and so I ended up doing that full-time."
"And?"
"And, well, fashion is a harsh mistress. When you reach a certain age it doesn't want to know you anymore. Although I'm hopeful that when I get to the mature look that my career will take off again. But, until then, Blackston Dubay is my home." He smiled, perhaps realising that his reference to the problems of age were less than tactful.
"You been here long?"
"About 6 months. I was working in New York but then decided I needed a change," said Mr Anthony.
"I didn't know places like this existed," said Mr Jethro as he gazed at his coffee mug. "I always shopped at Sears."
Mr Anthony hid his shock well. "I'm sure Sears provides very … robust items," he offered.
"Yes," said Mr Jethro with what seemed a tinge of regret at what he was letting go. "But … Sarah … has different views."
"I see," said Mr Anthony. "Now, may I suggest this shade of blue shirt? I think it would go with your eyes. Make them pop."
"Pop?" asked Mr Jethro.
"Pop," confirmed Mr Anthony.
"Do I want my eyes to pop?"
"Oh, yes," said Mr Anthony. "And I can assure you that … Sarah … would want them to as well."
"She would?"
"If she has any sense," beamed Mr Anthony.
"Has … Mr Desmond been here a long time?" asked Mr Jethro.
"I don't know. He was already here when I took the position. I think he's been here about two years."
"Huh. Seems a friendly place," said Mr Jethro.
"Yes, it does, doesn't it?" said Mr Anthony neutrally. "How did you find out about Blackston Dubay? If I might ask?"
"Um, a friend of mine mentioned it – Kenton Orsay. And I told my … Sarah about it. She said it was just what we needed."
"Kenton Orsay," said Mr Anthony thoughtfully, "That name rings a bell. Was he a client?"
"I think so," said Mr Jethro. "His wife died a few weeks ago, perhaps you read the obituary?"
"Possibly," said Mr Anthony. "Now, are you settled on the shawl collar tuxedo in silk? Or do you want the peaked lapel version in fine wool?"
"Which would you recommend?"
Mr Anthony considered this, "Well, my preference would be for the peaked lapel. I think it's more classic and, if I may say so, Mr Jethro, you can carry off the classic look."
Mr Jethro didn't look especially gratified by this comment and simply grunted.
"In fact," gushed Mr Anthony, "I would go so far as to say that you are the epitome of classic."
"OK," said Mr Jethro. "Go ahead with that. And the other stuff we've discussed."
Mr Anthony suppressed a shudder at the word stuff. "It will be a pleasure," he said, "Where will I send the account?"
"The account?" said Mr Jethro. "But we haven't finished."
"We haven't?"
"No. We've only done formal wear. I need casual wear, beach wear and sportswear. And is there something called smart casual?"
"Indeed there is," said Mr Anthony in a stunned voice.
"Then I'll see you tomorrow," announced Mr Jethro.
"Of course."
Mr Jethro made for the door but Mr Anthony came out of his daze quickly enough to make sure that he sprinted ahead of him and opened it for him. "And …" began Mr Jethro.
"Yes?" asked Mr Anthony.
"Make sure the coffee's stronger next time."
"Of course."
NCISNCIS
Des was delighted at Tone's progress and willingly allowed him to continue dealing with Mr Jethro even though Sid returned to work the next day. On the dot of 0900, Mr Jethro walked into the shop. Mr Anthony ushered him into the office where a carafe of coffee was already brewing.
"What would you like to look at first?" he asked.
"Sportswear," said Mr Jethro.
"A good choice," said Mr Anthony. "What sports are we looking at?"
"Tennis. And golf," said Mr Jethro.
"Really?" said Mr Anthony.
"What's wrong with golf and tennis?"
"Oh, nothing. It's just that I would have said your musculature indicates something more like … walking, hunting … perhaps sailing."
Mr Jethro looked at the assistant, "A few months ago you'd have been right. But Sarah wants me to take up other sports."
"Like tennis and golf?"
"Yes."
Mr Anthony cleared his throat and asked delicately, "Is … well … I gather that your future wife is wealthy?"
"Very," said Mr Jethro.
"I'm sure you'll be very happy," said Mr Anthony in a tone which didn't sound very confident.
"And if I'm not, there's always divorce," said Mr Jethro.
"Yes," said Mr Anthony, "Or …"
"Or something else," said Mr Jethro. "I've been married three times, you know."
"I see," said Mr Anthony. "And when is the wedding?" Mr Jethro looked askance at him. "I need to know when we need to get the suits made for. And the alterations done," he said hastily.
"Three weeks," said Mr Jethro.
"I'm sure it will be wonderful. And then you'll be off on a long vacation."
"Yes," said Mr Jethro gloomily.
It turned out that Mr Jethro was less decisive about casual wear than formal wear and another session was booked for the next day. Des was in ecstasies and Sid was sulky that he had missed out on such a golden opportunity.
Mr Anthony and Mr Jethro passed a fruitful morning discussing different types of polo shirts. Mr Jethro was surprised that Mr Anthony would 'allow' him to continue wearing them as he'd thought they were old fashioned.
"Never old fashioned," gasped Mr Anthony, "They're classic. And as I said before, you can totally carry it off. Of course, they should be used with moderation. It never does, I feel, to be too associated with a particular garment but I think they should continue to be part of your wardrobe. But I think some chambray work shirts would be a useful addition."
"Work shirts?" said Mr Jethro sceptically.
"Oh," Mr Anthony hastened to reassure, "These are Ralph Lauren work shirts. You wouldn't actually work in them."
It was difficult to tell if Mr Jethro was reassured by these words and he soon indicated that his buying spree might be nearing its end.
"I hope you've got everything you wanted," said Mr Anthony coyly.
"I guess I can always come back if I think of anything else," said Mr Jethro.
"Of course. And do we have the address to which to send the account?"
"Mr Desmond has it."
"Wonderful."
"And I think Kenton was right," said Mr Jethro, "I think Blackston Dubay does offer the services I may need."
"I'm delighted to hear it," said Mr Anthony. "And may I say that it has been a pleasure to dress you." He giggled.
Mr Jethro smiled a little grimly. "Do you know anywhere nearby where I can get something to eat?" he asked. He saw Mr Anthony open his mouth to make a suggestion and hastily said, "Just a Mom and Pop diner. Sarah doesn't approve of places like that but I still like them." He sighed.
"Of course," said the willing Mr Anthony. "In fact, I'm about to go on my lunch break. I can show you some really good places."
Mr Jethro nodded his approval and the two left the shop together. They had walked a whole block from the shop when two black sedans converged on them from opposite directions and armed officers jumped out,
"Leroy Jethro, you're under arrest!" shouted one.
"Anthony DiNozzo, you're under arrest!" shouted another.
"What?" said Tony and Gibbs in unison.
NCISNCIS
"It's actually quite funny," said Tobias Fornell to Director Tom Morrow.
"Is it?" asked Tom grimly.
"We had FBI agent Tony DiNozzo undercover in Blackston Dubay because we suspected that it had a side line in assassinating wealthy wives."
"And we sent Jethro Gibbs undercover because we suspected that the shop was organizing burglaries at their customers' homes," said Morrow.
"How did you get Jethro to do it?" asked Tobias. "It must have been torture for him to have to talk fashion all that time."
"I have my methods," said Tom darkly.
"If I hadn't been out of action after root canal I'd have spotted Jethro as the new customer," said Fornell ruefully, "But I wasn't involved with the arrest."
"No matter," said Morrow, "No point crying over spilt milk. And at least we know the truth now."
"Sure," said Fornell. "I feel real sorry for Des. He found out that Sid has been murdering customers to order as well as making suits to order and he's been selling customer addresses to burglars."
"Yes," said Morrow. "Although I think he's even more upset to have lost Mr Anthony. Turns out he's quite a salesman."
NCISNCIS
"It was nice to meet you, Special Agent Gibbs," said Tony as they emerged from the holding cells they'd been placed in.
"And you, Special Agent DiNozzo," said Gibbs. "Although, don't take this the wrong way, I never want to talk to you about shawl collars or pleated pants against flat front again."
Tony groaned, "I know. You know, I think I'm ruined."
"What? Why?"
"Six months undercover at Blackston Dubay. I never cared about fashion before but I had to immerse myself in it and I may be hooked. I may need to go and buy a suit."
"Perils of the job," said Gibbs with a sympathetic slap on the shoulder.
"I guess," said Tony gloomily. "Oh well, I guess I may see you around. Agent Fornell says there's a permanent opening on his team so I'll probably be staying in DC."
Gibbs nodded. "Sounds good, so long as you don't let the FBI arrest me next time."
"Works two ways," said Tony, "Don't let NCIS arrest me either."
"Agreed," said Gibbs.
Tony turned to go but stopped when Gibbs coughed, an embarrassed cough. "Hey, if you've got time …"
"Yes?"
"Perhaps you could talk me through those chambray work shirts again?"
