She Whispers Sweet

She Whispers Sweet An Artemis Blythe Mystery Thriller Book 9 Georgia Wagner Text Copyright © 2023 Georgia Wagner Publisher: Greenfield Press Ltd The right of Georgia Wagner to be identified as author of the Work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 All rights reserved. The book is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. ‘She Whispers Sweet’ is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, and events or locations is entirely coincidental. Table of Contents Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Epilogue What’s Next for Artemis? Also by Georgia Wagner Also by Georgia Wagner Want to know more? About the Author Prologue She'd always been terrified of heights, but the weekend of wine-tasting had given her liquid courage, and now, Gina Clarkson leaned against the wooden rail of the villa's balcony, staring out over the mountain pass far below. What might it be like to fall two-hundred feet from the sheer drop, crashing against those stones far below? She shivered at the thought, glancing over her shoulder, through the glass, where she could hear sounds in the kitchen from her boyfriend... No, no, husband now after yesterday. He was making dinner for the newlyweds. It had been Ben's idea to rent a villa on the cliff-face for their honeymoon. Gina took a sip of Sangria, tasting the chilled flavors of citrus and herb, the glass cold against her fingertips as she watched the sun dipping behind the Cascade Mountains, leaving streaks of gold and red along the cliffs and valleys. And that's when the lights went out. She hesitated, wrinkling her nose and glancing back at the villa. The windows were suddenly dark. The distant light of the sun seemed even dimmer now as clouds pulled across the beaming face of the light in the sky. "Ben?" she called out, turning now. Her steps were a bit wobbly. She'd had a bit too much to drink, but it was her honeymoon, after all. She deserved a bit of indulgence. Her lips pressed in a thin line, causing her cheeks to dimple, and she brushed her golden hair from her eyes. The sounds from the kitchen had faded. She wrinkled her nose, taking another tottering step forward. The villa was isolated. The rest of the vineyard was beyond the shadow of the mountain, hidden over the ridge. Her fingers grazed the glass of the patio door as she pushed it slowly open and peered inside. Inside the villa, a dormant and cold fireplace lay settled off to her right, under a large smart TV. A leather couch with automatic buttons on the side sat in one corner, across from a love-chair that they'd already made good use of. There was an end table near wooden stairs leading up to the top level and a door leading to the basement, which was unfinished but, judging from the tour they’d been given when they'd first arrived, held a couple of old-fashioned arcade games. For decor more than entertainment according to the hosts of the place. Now, standing in the main room of the villa, on wooden flooring that matched the walls, her gaze cast about in the dark. The TV had been on earlier, playing a quiet movie of natural beauty. The electric fireplace had also been on. Now, both were out. The light from the kitchen was off. Even the sound of the vent over the stove had gone quiet. And then she froze. Something was lying on the floor. A dark lump by the door. The front door was open, and a gust of wind whistled through the faint crack. It took her a second to realize there was a body on the ground, motionless. Her eyes widened in horror. She dropped the glass. It shattered at her feet, spitting crystals and droplets of cold liquid across her ankles. She let out a small yelp then sprinted forward, racing across the slick, wooden ground. It was darker in the house than on the porch, as some of the curtains were drawn. She dropped next to the body by the door, her hands reaching out desperately. "No, no, no!" she was saying. Sometimes, Ben had fainting spells, but it had been nearly a year since his last one. "Where are your meds! Ben, where are they?" But he didn't reply. She tugged his shoulder, forcing his face to turn towards hers. For one horrible moment, she didn't recognize the man on the ground. It wasn't her husband... No... No, wait. Her imagination was playing tricks. His face was streaked in red, though, and his eyes were closed. The combination of the red and the shadows and the effect of her drink had momentarily played a trick on her mind. His features were rigid, though. Frozen. Ben didn't look like himself... And then... as her mind caught up with what she was seeing, she froze. The red wasn't sauce from the Bolognese he'd been cooking—the fragrant odor she could smell coming from the kitchen—nor was it some trick of the light in the dark villa. Blood.