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BORGO PRESS BOOKS BY WILLIAM MALTESE
Amaz’n Murder: A Cozy Mystery Novel
Amen’s Boy: A Fictionalized Autobiography (with Jacob Campbell)
Anal Cousins: Case Studies in Variant Sexual Practices
Back of the Boat Gourmet Cooking (with Bonnie Clark)
Blood-Red Resolution: An Adventure Novel
Catalytic Quotes (Some Heard Through a Time Warp)
Dinner with Cecile and William (with Cecile Charles)
Draqualian Silk: A Collector’s & Bibliographical Guide to the Books of William Maltese, 1969-2010
Emerald-Silk Intrigue: A Romance
Even Gourmands Have to Diet (with Bonnie Clark)
The Fag Is Not for Burning: A Mystery Novel
From This Beloved Hour: A Romance
Fyrea’s Cauldron: A Romance Novel
Gerun, the Heretic: A Science Fiction Novel
Get-Real Vegan Desserts (with Christina-Marie Wright)
The Gluten-Free Way: My Way (with Adrienne Z. Milligan)
The Gomorrha Conjurations: An Adventure Novel
The “Happy” Hustler
Heart on Fire: A Romance
In Search of the Perfect Pinot G! (with A. B. Gayle)
Incident at Aberlene: An Espionage Novel (Spies & Lies #1)
Incident at Brimzinsky: An Espionage Novel (Spies & Lies #2)
Jungle Quest Intrigue: A Romance
Love’s Emerald Flame: A Romance
Love’s Golden Spell: A Romance
Matador, Mi Amor: A Novel of Romance
Moon-Stone Intrigue: A Romance
Moonstone Murders: The Movie Script
Schism on Antheer-D: Science Fiction (Gods & Frauds #1)
Schism on Bnth: Science Fiction (Gods & Frauds #2)
Slaves
A Slip to Die for: A Stud Draqual Mystery
Summer Sweat: An Erotic Anthology
SS & M: Being Excerpts from the Nazi Death-Head Files
Total Meltdown: An Adventure Novel (with Raymond Gaynor)
When Summer Comes
William Maltese’s Wine Taster Diary: Spokane & Pullman, WA
Young Cruisers
COPYRIGHT INFORMATION
Copyright © 2013 by William Maltese
Published by Wildside Press LLC
www.wildsidebooks.com
DEDICATION
For My Dear Old Mum,
who would have loved this one.
CHAPTER ONE
Pleasurably frightened, as a child, by the contents of her father’s journals, Melanie Ditherson expected (hoped for?) a reality of bloodthirsty natives, or at least a slavering jaguar; she got neither.
“Sorry if I gave you a start.” It was her Uncle Charles who looked romantically dashing in his bush outfit that included the brim-upturned hat he removed to wipe sweat from his forehead. His hair was stunningly silver; Melanie had always suspected he used some kind of rinse, but, unless he brought his own supply, his two weeks in the Amazon had produced no telltale roots of less magnificent color. “Haven’t seen our guide, have you?”
“Gordon?” She made it you have to be kidding.
“Said he was off to use ‘the facilities’ and didn’t bother to return. As he was headed this way.…”
“Teddy is within hailing distance.” Melanie waved her arm in a southwestern direction. “He said to call any time that Gordon might again decide to be a bother.”
“Rather unpleasant business—that.” Charles didn’t refer to Gordon’s more immediate disappearance, although that was unpleasant enough, but to what had happened the night before. “I hope you don’t hold it against your dear uncle that he didn’t vote in favor of our trotting back to civilization in retaliation for Gordon’s unseemly behavior.”
Melanie took a handkerchief from the front pocket of her pants and freed her face of as much perspiration as she could manage. “I’m the one who insisted we stay, remember?”
“Yes, but if I’d been a little more insistent.…”
“We all made too much of it,” Melanie rationalized. She left it at that, because she’d never assumed Gordon anymore immune to her harmless flirtations than any other man. Last night had merely proven her right.
“Having missionaries for parents doesn’t make any child one.” Charles’ tone insinuated an access to more information than was at Melanie’s disposal. “Especially it doesn’t make Gordon one.”
Melanie was curious for any specifics but she was detoured.
“Ah, I thought I heard voices.” Carolyne Santire said, sweeping aside a large frond to join them. “Any luck, you two?”
“Plenty of rubias, myrtles, leguminosse, epiphytic orchids, bromeliad, and fern.…” Melanie ran down the list.
“Don’t I know it,” Carolyne consoled. Unlike Charles’ hair, hers, a henna-rinse red, was definitely coming in a different color—grey—at the scalp. She ran her fingers through the variegated results in an automatic exploration for whatever creepies or crawlies had hitched rides since her last search and seizure.
“Not only have I not found anything even vaguely resembling Lygodium cornelius, but I seem to have lost our guide in the process,” admitted Charles.
“Surely, that young man learned from his mistake of last night and isn’t up to any new mischief,” Carolyne criticized Gordon-in-absentia.
“He didn’t come this way.” Melanie had no desire to get him into any more trouble.
“Left me on the other side of the gully,” Charles lamented. “I could have broken my neck in my balancing act to get back across.”
For not the first time, Carolyne knew Charles Ditherson was no way as decrepit as he was always letting on. After so many years of traversing
