CHAPTER SIXTY and EPILOGUE

SIXTY
Patti squealed with deranged joy when I told
her what she wanted to hear – that I would make her a
vampire.
“When? Tonight? Can we do it tonight?”
“Yes. There’s no point in delaying, my love.”
“You’ll have to train me once you transform
me, right -- train me as a vampire?”
“Of course. But first you’ll have to disappear. I
want you to write a suicide note.”
This brought her up short.
“Suicide note?”

CHAPTER FIFTY NINE

FIFTY NINE
Patti came to my house this evening for the
final time. Neither of us knew it was the final time
when she arrived. Our meeting began with going
over the weekly wraps for Pretty Lady and Ukulele,
Baby. The cumulative effect of Danny’s murder, the
East of Broadway Curse, my haunting of the show,
and subsequent word of mouth all combined to make
Pretty Lady an unstoppable hit. The show is grossing
a million dollars a week, with no signs of slowing
down.

CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT

FIFTY EIGHT
From the mountain top I soared into the sky
and headed for Atlantic City. I found Norman after a
few moments, in a seedier section of that metropolis.
The lower half of his face was bloody from feeding.

CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN

FIFTY SEVEN
He came out of nowhere and was on me like
a wild jungle cat, clawing and scratching and trying
to sink his fangs into me. We were in the shadows on
East 89th Street at four a.m. a couple nights after my
eye-opening excursion to the Jersey Shore. I wrapped
my arm around my back, encircling his body, and
squeezed until I heard his vertebrae snap. He flopped
like a broken toy. I retracted my arm and he slid to the
ground, though he was still trying to grab me. He was
strong, very strong – but nowhere near as strong as I.

CHAPTER FIFTY SIX

FIFTY SIX
The interiors of the casinos were gaudy and
geared for one thing and one thing only – separating
people from their money and making them come
back for more of the same. Senior citizens went at the
slot machines with rabid abandon. The table games
were less thronged. It was a Tuesday evening. The air
was rife with anticipation, angst, anguish, anger and
adrenalin.

CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE

FIFTY FIVE
Atlantic City rises out of absolute darkness
when approached at night. It is an effulgence of
brilliant colored light to rival anything Times Square
can offer. To the East is the dark expanse of the ocean.
To the West are the even darker Pine Barrens and
cranberry bogs of southern New Jersey.
In an era of more wonder and no electronic media, this metropolis
would take on mythical proportions for any human
who saw it. Such is not the contemporary era. Awe is
an emotion in a state of atrophy and decline among
humans.

CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR

FIFTY FOUR
I entered the house tonight after feeding and
found Mr. London, as I have come to think of my
British counterpart, sitting in my living room in one
of the wine-red colored wing chairs. He greeted me
with, “Hello, mate. How’s tricks?”
“There are no tricks if you know true magic,” I
replied.

CHAPTER FIFTY THREE

FIFTY THREE
I changed into ninja garb and flew out to
Morristown, New Jersey and fed on a Wall Street
banker to celebrate the haunting. The banker was just
another fat cat heart attack victim who died in his
sleep, by all appearances.
The story of the reappearance of David
Belasco’s ghost made Page Six today.

CHAPTER FIFTY TWO

FIFTY TWO

David Belasco’s ghost is back. Now that the
reviews have been out for a few days and were
positive if not glowing on every front, it makes
perfect sense to revive the haunting and that is what
I did during the second act of last night’s show. I
chose Tim Grainger, who plays the young male
romantic lead Doug. I know Tim is a solid actor as
well as a wonderful singer. He handled my surprise
appearance well, though he did do a triple take when
he first saw me.

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE

FIFTY ONE
Patti made her entrance into Elaine’s several
steps ahead of me. Once she was inside, I stepped
into the golden light of the saloon and people started
applauding, a few at first but soon the entire joint
turned in my direction and brought their mortal
hands together. I gave a slight bow. The place was
packed. Somebody shouted out, “Speech. Speech.”
I raised my open hands to quiet the room.

CHAPTER FIFTY

FIFTY
I love the excitement of opening nights – my
own and those of others – even if does take place
after a month or more of preview performances. I
wanted this one to be especially fun, as it could be my
last New York premier. More and more the London
vampire’s offer is sounding attractive. Pretty Lady may
be my swan song on Broadway. So I took every step
possible to make the evening a success, something for
New York to remember Gus Windham by.

CHAPTER FORTY NINE

FORTY NINE
In one of those fluke occurrences that are
bound to happen in an existence like mine, tragedy
struck the show again; though this time it was less
direct. Ben Cody’s parents were found robbed and
murdered in their Winnebago, parked outside the Wal
Mart in East Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania. Yes. Those
two, I’m afraid. Of course, Ben had to take time off to
deal with his family tragedy.

CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT

FORTY EIGHT
Soon after our meeting I was airborne, headed
toward the Hudson. A few minutes later I saw the
bright lights of a Wal Mart in East Stroudsburg,
Pennsylvania and landed in the parking lot.
I spotted a large Winnebago in the far corner.
Its engine was idling and it was parked so that the
middle door was on the opposite side of the vehicle
from the store. Perfect. Anybody who stays overnight
in a Wal Mart parking lot in an RV is fair game in my
book.

CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN

FORTY SEVEN
Patti arrives tonight bearing the dummy for
the ad supplement. Being a Monday evening, there is
no show, so she arrives later than usual. The cover is
a burgundy colored stage curtain with gold brocade
trim, parted at the middle. This I like.
The title of this pamphlet is now “Pretty Lady and the Curse East of
Broadway”. It also had a subtitle – “Ghosts, Murder and
Mayhem” – which I nix the instant Patti hands me the
print out.

CHAPTER FORTY SIX

FORTY SIX
Daylight Savings Time began last night, or
this morning to be accurate. I hunted down a watch
repairman and fed on him at exactly 2 a.m. to mark
the change. This guy was in Connecticut. Every year,
somewhere in America, someone connected to the
manufacture or repair of timepieces dies to mark the
beginning of this inauspicious period of the year.
Believe me. It happens. You can set your watch by it,
as the saying goes.

CHAPTER FORTY FIVE

FORTY FIVE

Detective Swiecki sends me an email asking
me to give him a call. It takes a bit of playing phone
tag but we manage to connect when he calls back the
second time.
“Mr. Windham, Detective Swiecki here.”
We briefly exchange politeness and he thanks
me again for the evening at the theater. I protest.

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.

CHAPTER FORTY THREE

FORTY THREE

“Gus Windham?”
The voice was familiar though I was not sure
why, and that made me wince. She was walking at my
elbow and I stopped and looked at her. Her features
struck a faint chord in my memory but there was no
ensuing melody of recognition and recollection.
“You don’t know me,” she said.
I was sure that I did know her but uncertain as
to why or from where.

Chapter Forty Two

FORTY TWO
Mac Watson and I watched the show together,
then went to Gandhi Café on Bleecker Street, an
inexpensive Indian restaurant near the theater that he,
a vegetarian, favors.
When Danny directed this show he and the
playwright clashed endlessly during the transition
after I picked it up and moved it from a ninety-nine
seat showcase at Theater for the New City in the East
Village to its current home. In the end, though, the
two artists each developed a great deal of respect
for the other’s talent. It was the first time Mac and I
spoke since Danny’s murder.

CHAPTER FORTY ONE

FORTY ONE
Ukulele, Baby is a charming little contemporary
musical, full of original sweet songs that move
forward a comic story of a dystopian future. It got rave
reviews when the author and composer, Mac Watson,
mounted it in early 2008. Danny Limm directed it,
which is also how we first came to know each other. I
am the producer.