Chapter Forty Four

FORTY FOUR

The previews for Pretty Lady are doing
spectacular business. The show tightened up almost
on its own. David, who is now being credited as
associate director, and I compared notes a couple of
times and were in agreement, so I let him handle
the cast. Tony Crakow and I consulted by phone and
decided to open as planned. There would be no need
to shift the date.

Word of mouth for the show was great and the
press was getting to be just as good. Ben Cody, the
publicist, invited a bunch of entertainment reporters
from print media to see the show but only for the
purposes of writing feature articles. The writers had
to agree to an embargo on review coverage until
after opening night. The result was half a dozen
articles that spoke in glowing general terms about the
entertainment value while also talking about Danny,
his background and the murder investigation.
Ben also invited several of the more important
theatrical bloggers to see the show, and encouraged
them to review the show. To a person they gave the
production very positive on line coverage.
I got a call from Terri Coyle at the end of
business on the Friday before the most cursed night
on the planet.
“Okay. Listen, we added a page to the ‘Curse' supplement. It’s very tasteful. It’s an ‘in memoriam’ sort of thing. We don’t want it to be tacky but by the same token we have to mention Danny. Take a look and let me know if you want any changes. The whole thing can be read online tonight, if you like.”
“You put it on line? Why?”
“It’s a hidden page on the agency’s web site. You have to know the URL or you can’t see it. One of the kids here set it up.”
“Send me the URL right now and I’ll look at it and get right back to you by email with my thoughts.”
We wished each other good night. I dropped the cell phone into my jacket pocket. I turned on my laptop a few minutes later and checked my email account to see if Terri’s missive was there. It was. But first I read the new email from the London vampire.
Hello old chum,
Not having heard back I’m hoping you’re either one of those who doesn’t check the email account too often, or even better, you’re mulling over my proposition. It makes perfect sense for both of us. We’re both aware of the limitations we face in fulfilling our dietary requirements. It’s the old “This town isn’t big enough for the two of us” syndrome. An email is not the place to get into the specifics of why, especially with your government browsing all international communications with its Carnivore program, a particularly apt nomenclature in our case.
I hear you’ve got yourself a bona fide Broadway hit on your hands. All the best with that. I suspect you’ve developed a passion for the theatrical art form in much the same way that I am fascinated by the gaming industry.
Now, there’s the rub. England has a much stronger theater scene and the U.S. has one of the planet’s most active casino environments. Also, the cost ratio for theater is much more reasonable here. That’s to your advantage. The potential represented by a switch is enormous for both of us.
I do hope you will give my proposal serious consideration. While I realize it may take you awhile to decide, please do extend me the courtesy of acknowledging receipt of this email.
Yours in London, etc.
I typed a short but polite and amiable reply:
It’s always good to hear from an old acquaintance. As you note, I have quite a bit on my plate at the moment, including a hit musical. However, I am intrigued by your proposal. Perhaps we should meet? This time you would have to come here, whenever your schedule allows.
All best,
Gus Windham
Next I opened the email from Terri Coyle. Her note said “Hope you like it. Let me know when you’ve gone over it.”
A URL appeared beneath the text. I clicked on the hyperlink. It took me to a “404 Not Found” message. I forwarded it all to Patti with a note telling her to please contact Terri, get the right electronic address, and print out a copy of the dummy supplement for me.