Exclusive Excerpt: The Constant Caprese (a Nick Williams Mystery; Book 20) by Frank W. Butterfield

Exclusive Excerpt:

Right then, we were about fifty feet from the bottom of the hill where Via Libertá ended. The road was at its steepest and we were walking slowly since we couldn’t see. A flash of headlights ran across the far wall of the restaurant that we’d passed earlier in the day. I let go of Carter’s arm. We’d been walking in the stone-paved roadway and both jumped up on the sidewalk to get out of the way.

After about half a minute, I could hear a car coming down the hill very slowly. As it got close to us, it slowed down to a crawl. A voice called out, “Signor Williams?”

“Yes?” I replied without turning to look at the car, since it was following us and the headlights were just behind us. I knew I wouldn’t be able to see anyone without getting blinded.

The voice asked, “Will you give me your boat?”

I sighed. I wondered how to play the situation.

Suddenly, I had it. “Sure. Come by the marina at 10 in the morning. That’ll give us time to get our stuff out.” That was a lie. We would be on our way by 7 in the morning, at the latest, and they would be sadly disappointed when they arrived at the marina. Or so I hoped.

“Then where will you go?”

“We’ll take the ferry to Naples and fly back to France from there.”

“Good. Thank you for your assistance.”

I snorted but didn’t say anything. The voice said something short and to the point in Italian. With that, the car bolted forward and squealed down the hill and around the corner, heading right, and was gone.

. . .

As we walked up to where the sailboat was docked, I noticed that Captain O’Reilly and John Murphy were both in their cabin and all the lights were out except for one in our cabin.

Carter whispered, “Let’s take off our shoes.”

I snorted quietly. “Good idea. I don’t wanna get a talkin-to in the morning.”

We both removed our shoes and carried them as we walked aboard. Slowly padding along, we quietly walked into our cabin. Carter leaned over, as usual, and then collapsed onto the bed, making the boat rock a little as he did.

I carefully closed the door behind me and stood right there, with my back against it, and looked over at Carter. His legs were spread apart and he was yawning, his head tilted back with his left hand over his mouth while he propped himself up with his right.

I could feel myself getting more flushed and excited than I ever could remember. I ran my eyes up from his socked feet, along the length of his thickly-muscled legs that were, as always when he sat, stretching the fabric of his trousers, and then stopped at his crotch. I could feel myself breathing heavily, almost panting. The warm feeling I’d been having since before dinner was spreading and getting stronger and more urgent.

Looking up, I felt myself blush furiously when I saw that he was watching me. His emerald green eyes were bright and wide. And, as I looked at him, the ruddiness in his face deepened darker than I could ever remember seeing it before.

We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Then, before I knew what I was doing, I found myself slowly undressing right where I stood, allowing Carter to enjoy the sight.


Tuesday, September 10, 1957

Nick and Carter have left Nice and, after sailing down the Italian coast, have dropped anchor at the island of Procida, just across the bay from the Naples coast.

Nick, as he is wont to do, meets the one homosexual who works at the local post office and, in short order, is invited to dinner along with Carter to meet the entire family. Italians, after all, are so friendly!

Meanwhile, Lord Gerald, their friend in British intelligence, has sent a cryptic telegram asking them to take a package over to Capri, an island on the far side of the Bay of Naples.

When they dock at Capri the next morning, they find a dying duke, an eccentric earl, and a vigilant viscount all living together in a glorious villa dating back to the turn of the century. These are the final remnants of the once-thriving community of homosexual Englishmen who made the Italian island their sanctuary where they could live in peace as themselves.

But is someone haunting this idyllic Mediterranean paradise? Who cut the phone line for no apparent reason? Who opened the locked door and then unlocked it again? Who is playing pranks with the plumbing? Maybe these are all just coincidences… Or maybe there is something more sinister afoot…

Come sail away with Nick and Carter to the Island of Capri and find out!

Click on photo to go to Frank’s website!

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To learn more Frank W. Butterfield, just click on his photo.

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