Fatal Designs

PROLOGUE

Sex and cigarettes hung heavily in the dark room. On the bedside table, the syringe he had put there over an hour ago lay against a burnt spoon. A scalpel nestled in a thick red smear of blood on the dusty dressing table. In the corner, the TV droned out stories of unsolved true crimes.

The woman on the bed moaned, bloodshot eyes unseeing as her body twitched, regaining some control over her limbs. The drawn blinds kept the room just dark enough to accentuate her hollowed out features and made every time she opened her mouth look like a scream. When her head lolled to the side, he curled a lip in disgust.

The man pulled down his pants and pushed them and several pieces of dirty underwear out of his way with his foot. Running a finger along the angry red marks on his bare chest, he relished the sting her claws left. She had put up a fight. Even drugged, the bitch cried when he forced her down to cut her, but the more she screamed, the more excited he became. Kicking and screaming, as he preferred, he dragged her with him into dark, delicious fantasies which were a far-cry from her prim and proper life.

Picking up the syringe, he stuck it into the vial and withdrew the plunger slowly. Approaching her, she slowly roused from her weak state, and when her terror-filled eyes met his, he smiled. Then he was on her. Jabbing her arm with the needle and injecting her again with Ketamine. Underneath him, her heart beat rapidly. Yanking the needle out and casting it aside, he pressed a firm hand across her mouth and nose. She writhed like a snake, but he was strong. Through his thighs he felt her heart slow, and he lifted a few fingers to give her air again. Finally, her dilated eyes relaxed and her limbs stilled.

Slapping her gaunt cheeks and making her blink, he said, “We are going to enjoy more of each other.”

It had been a rush, fulfilling his every dream with her and pushing her past her limits. He had pushed her into the dark side, eons away from the world she knew. That stopped now. She was not going back to her life.

The woman started wheezing and convulsing. No, not now. It was too damn soon.

HOPE IN SIGHT

Sitting at her desk, Joy Warrier undid the top button of her bright-orange linen shirt with its rolled-up sleeves and fanned herself. Her bangles clinked as she flicked through fabric samples and jotted down notes for the home she was designing. On one corner of her desk an office phone blinked and the in-tray stacked with current design jobs threatened to topple.

On her crowded cobalt steel-framed desk was a computer and drawing tablet, currently pushed to the side to make room for her samples, piles of sketch pads, cups of pencils and highlighters, and a lone bonsai tree. The tree butted up against a small building model teetering between the edge of her desk and the neighbouring stack of cardboard file and sample boxes. The long white shelf behind her held manilla folders filled with projects past and present, and more potted bonsai trees.

Photographs of the city landscape and staff portraits lined the cavity brick wall on one side of the office, and the other side consisted of large windows with views of Melbourne’s city skyline.

The grey padded chairs in front of her were empty and she stared at them as she recalled a discussion with her client earlier that day. Resting a hand underneath her chin, she glanced across the room at the other steel-framed cobalt desk in the room. It was Kathleen’s desk, now vacant. Filing cabinets and stacks of folders stood beside it too, but all of them remained untouched. Where was Kathleen? Joy missed her colleague and friend. Kathleen could be anywhere out there. Maybe she had run away and started a new life with a whirlwind romance, or maybe she just needed a break.

Through the door to their shared space was an L-shaped hallway, leading to the other offices, tea room, and reception desk.

Her coffee had become cold and Joy thought about walking down the corridor to the tearoom, but then decided it was too late in the day for more coffee. She heard the click of shoes on the hard floor from the corridor as her friend and manager, Lian entered through the doorway. She approached Joy’s desk.[ER1] “How are you doing with those couch samples? We needed them yesterday.”

Lian owned Tasteful and Trending Designs with two other designers, a stylist, and investment partner. Her long, brown hair flowed down to her shoulders and her dimples deepened with her tentative smile. Her white blouse and fitted black skirt accentuated her petite frame.

Joy had worked with Lian for two years and thrived on the hectic pace of their regular client work. She pointed to a pink and a peach sample. “We should go with one of these pastel colours. What do you think?”

Lian nodded. “Great. Go with the peach sample. It’s the client’s preferred colour. Ring the supplier. Hopefully, it won’t take too long to deliver.”

Joy picked up her phone from the table. “On it.” Hunger pangs soon set in. “Let’s have lunch, girl.”

“Yes, I could eat.”

Marching to the tearoom with Lian behind her, Joy greeted the two other interior designers, who offered brief acknowledgements, and swung open the fridge. Her friend pulled out a small dish from the microwave while Joy took out her salad roll.

In the overhead cupboard, her hand hovered over the glass. A familiar mug, abandoned by its owner, made her chest ache. Joy pulled the glass out and shut the cupboard. She filled it up with water and walked to the table to sit across from Lian, who was forking up her chicken stir-fry. Unwrapping her lunch, Joy said, “That smells good.”

Lian stared at the cupboard and pinched the skin at her throat. “I keep looking at that mug and missing her every day.”

A chill ran up Joy’s spine. “I can’t believe Kathleen’s been missing for two weeks. Where is she?” At their last lunch together, Kathleen had been unusually withdrawn and down. Joy had asked if anything was bothering her but she said no. Nothing else. But what if she’d been in trouble and Joy hadn’t pushed hard enough to get to the actual truth? If Kathleen had needed a break from her problems, she could at least let them know.

Lian bit a nail, with most of the others having been chewed off in the last two weeks. “I wish I knew. Your detective friends Marco and Angelo haven’t found her. Where the hell is she, Joy?” Lian hadn’t slept or eaten much since Kathleen had been missing.

“I don’t know. They mentioned having priority cases, so who knows if she ran away or ...”

Lian leaned forward. “Or what?”

Joy hesitated. “I don’t know.” She didn’t want to say it might be something sinister. Lian said nothing. “I worry about her sister, Ariana. She’s always looked up to Kathleen. I need to check on her.”

Lian slipped her hands into her pockets, averting her eyes. “She’ll turn up one of these days. I know it. Probably took a much-needed vacation or met the man of her dreams. She is most likely going to surprise us.”

Joy wanted it to be the truth but had mixed thoughts. “Of course. That’s it,” she lied. “She loves this job, Lian. I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation for this.” Joy had been through many losses in her life, including the death of an old friend a year ago and her sister fourteen years ago. Her hands clenched. No, she wouldn’t go there. Kathleen was fine. She was on a sabbatical and just needed a break.

Threading a hand through her shoulder-length, wavy blonde hair, Joy wondered about Ariana. Joy had a brother, Jesse, and couldn’t imagine what she’d do if he disappeared and she didn’t know what had happened to him. It must be torture for Ariana. All they could do until they heard otherwise was wait, but she held on to hope. Until they knew more, Joy had to get on with her life.

It was nearly the end of the day, so she closed down her computer and gathered her things. Tonight she had the night to herself. After a bad date the night before, she was sworn off men for life, and wondering if the right man even existed for her.

CLOSE BROTHERS

Edward Astbury gripped the pencil tight as he scrunched up his nose, totally focused on his brother. “Please hold still, Ray.” He rested his back against the steel chair in Ray’s dining room, colouring in the rounded cheeks and adding bushy eyebrows. He sketched the finishing touches to Ray’s shoulder-length blonde waves and placed the portrait face up on the table. “It’s done.”

Ray let out a sigh. “Finally. Let me see.”

Edward passed it over the table and sat back with squared shoulders, waiting for his brother’s opinion. It hadn’t been the first time he’d drawn for Ray, who never kept still. He had drawn Ray dozens of times, attempting to improve on each one. Drawing portraits and landscapes was his creative outlet, and he had sold his work to friends and family over in England. “What are your thoughts?”

“I love it, man,” said Ray. “This one’s better than the last one you did. You have a real talent. I should pay you this time. How much do I owe you?”

Edward put up his hand and shook his head. “Complimentary, Ray. I only charge those who are overseas, given I have to pay for postage.”

“Thanks, man. You are too kind.”

“I know.” Edward deadpanned then flashed a cheeky grin.

“So tell me about this woman, Lian, we’re working with? What’s she like?” Ray was a self-employed carpenter and Edward an architect; they were working together on Edward’s next project.

Edward pressed his lips together. “I only met her once but she seems pleasant enough. She has a few designers working for the company, but I believe only one of them is coming on board.”

Ray nodded. “I’ll appreciate the change. My last job was a ball-breaker, so I’m sure this new home we’re working on will be a breeze.” He rubbed his hands. “I like us working together, bro. It’s been too long since that last project.”

“It is better late than never, I suppose. That seven-year break between us was harrowing.”

Ray looked down at his fingers, picking at his cuticles. “How many times do I have to damn well apologise, Ed? Don’t you think it’s time you got over it?”

Edward ignored the stinging comment. He pushed down his pain. Edward was only nine years old when Ray left him alone with their parents. He had missed his brother.

Edward got up and swung open his fridge, picking up two bottles of orange juice. He handed one to Ray, who fumbled with it and spilled some on the floor, stopping to wipe it down with a paper towel. He poured the other one into a glass for himself.

They carried their drinks through the open-plan dining room into the living room with its beige two-seater sofa. A thin, black-patterned rug covered timber floors. The house featured high ceilings and bay windows overlooking the Williamstown Beach. A 65-inch TV sat against the opposite wall, and a bookshelf in the corner displayed books on design and the modern structure of commercial and domestic buildings.

A close-up framed portrait hung on the wall, showcasing a woman’s heavily made-up eyes and long eyelashes. It was a drawing of Ray’s ex-girlfriend, Mary, who had broken up with him a few years prior due to a misunderstanding. It had hurt him like hell as he had loved her with all his heart. Mary had left him a note and walked out of his life. He had attempted to rekindle their relationship, but she refused.

Edward reached for the remote and switched to the news. “It is unbelievably tragic. These murders. Two of them so close to each other and both in the local community. I wonder if it’s the same perpetrator.”

Ray scratched his neck as he leaned forward on the couch. “They are bad.” He started coughing. “I need a drink.” He tossed down his juice and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Are you all right?” asked Edward.”

“I’m fine. Just a tickly throat. Nothing to worry about.” He leaned back against the couch and placed his right leg over his left. “How about one of those British shows? Give you a taste of home, Ed.”

Edward sometimes missed his hometown of London, but he’d been in Australia for the past twelve years—since he was sixteen, when his father had been offered a lucrative position as a stockbroker. He missed his old friends and the culture but his home now was Williamstown, Victoria.

“I would rather watch the news. I am curious about these two missing women whose bodies were found locally. The latest is this poor woman who died from drugs but was missing for two weeks. There has to be more to that story.”

Ray averted his eyes. “Too dreary for me, man. What does it have to do with you? Crimes happen all the time.”

“Why do you always do that?”

Ray grimaced. “Do what?”

“Avoid the reality of life. The statistics show—”

Ray put up a hand. “Oh, leave the stats, man. You and your damn facts. Can’t we just take a breather and watch a British show? Enough of the downer of the news.”

Edward loved his brother, and they’d been close given their family situation, but he was curious lately about why Ray had become ultra-sensitive to the news. The more Edward thought about it, the more he realised that Ray had been angrier and more distracted lately, but every time Edward asked about it, Ray brushed it off.

“Sure, Ray,” Edward said and changed the channel. Something about Ray’s reaction to the news nagged at him, but he decided it was best to let it go instead of risking a fight.

Edward glanced at the time. He had a date to keep and excused himself from Ray’s, hurrying home.

Once he arrived at his townhouse, he placed his keys into their usual kitchen drawer. Swinging open his fridge door he stared at its contents: left-over pasta, assorted lunch containers for the working week, fresh fruit and vegetables, assorted cheeses, and a carton of eggs. Selecting a small container, Edward filled it with fruit and cheese.

The clock ticked the time and Edward ensured that he left precisely in eight minutes to be there in time. Collecting the container and a small bottle of wine with two glasses, he opened his back door and stepped inside the garage. A motorcycle and helmet stood beside his car. It had been a gift from his late fiancée, Evanthia. The memory tugged at his heart and brought to mind her beautiful smile, kind eyes, and open heart.

Edward tucked the fruit, glasses and wine into the seat’s case and climbed on. He pulled on his helmet, leaving the garage with the roaring engine of the motorbike. His whole world eased away as he rode towards an overarching gate and breathed in the mild, fresh air. He got off the bike, gathered his belongings, and walked the grounds, surrounded by lush trees and flower beds with their rustling leaves and petals in the cool breeze. The freshly-mowed grass smelled sweet and sharp. The loose stones and rocks created a path as he walked further to his destination. She always waits for me. He sat down by Evanthia’s gravestone, pulled out a cloth from his jeans pocket and cleaned off the dust. His heart ached as he picked up his bottle and poured the wine into a plastic glass. He drank up. “I know you wanted me to love again, Evanthia, but no-one will ever be you. No-one will ever belong to me like you did. I miss you so much,. I know you only want me to be happy and find love again, but I have to admit…I’m too scared to love again. I don’t know if I’ll ever get over you, my darling.”

Edward bowed his head and spent an hour by her gravestone, He dug into his container of fruit and ate a piece of rock melon in honour of his beloved. Would he ever be able to move on?

BAD TO WORSE

Joy sat inside Lian’s office the next day, tapping her wedged heel on the plush carpet. She played with the stitching around a hole in her faded jeans, getting away with occasional casual attire when she didn’t have client meetings. “Is everything all right, Lian? I was in the middle of sourcing supplies for the latest home project. Is there a problem?” Lian’s desk featured stacks of files on one side, assorted invoices piled high, a computer monitor with a laptop, and a desk phone. She pulled files over to one side so Joy could see her. “I know you’re busy but I couldn’t turn this one down. It is an opportunity for us to expand if this project does well.”

Joy’s spine straightened and her heart fluttered. “What is it?”

Her boss leaned in, holding a pen in the air. “It is a single-story home belonging to a wealthy family. The husband and wife are gifting it to their daughter. Please say you are open to this?” She gave a cheeky grin. “Otherwise, I will have to fire you on the spot.”

Joy’s shoulders lifted. “Sounds like another challenge. When do we go on-site?”

“Tomorrow. The client will meet us at the house. They have a solicitor, Thomas. He will be managing the practical details. I doubt we’ll see the client much.” Her desk phone rang. She picked it up. “Hey, Val. What’s up?” Her eyes turned a shade darker. “Send them in.” She hung up and rose, cross-armed, watching the doorway.

“What’s wrong?” Before Lian replied, footsteps sounded behind Joy. She turned as Angelo and Marco entered the office. Joy’s back tensed up and she stilled her foot, tilting her head. “Hey, guys. Do you have news?”

Marco scratched his stubble and his brown eyes dimmed. “Hello ladies.” He declined the chair offered by Joy who sat stock-still.

“What is going on?” said Lian.

Angelo had dimples and jet-black hair. He pulled over a chair from a corner of the office. “We’re sorry to interrupt but this couldn’t wait.”

Lian shifted in her seat behind her desk. “What couldn’t wait, detectives?”

Marco’s posture straightened. “We are sorry to give you this news, but Kathleen was found dead yesterday.”

Joy’s vision blurred and she couldn’t catch her breath. Squeezing her hands, she dug her nails into her sweaty palms as flashes of Kathleen’s beautiful smile and boisterous laugh arose in her mind. The room around her spun and her heart raced. No, this couldn’t be happening again. Marco leaned forward and grabbed her hand gently. “Joy, are you all right?”

She had to keep it together. “How?” she croaked.

Angelo glanced at her reassuringly. “It appears to be from drugs. An overdose.”

Lian sat with a rigid posture, eye twitching and cheeks pale. “That’s crazy. Kathleen was never into drugs. How can that be possible?”

Marco shrugged. “We will investigate further and keep you up to date.”

The bile in Joy’s throat stopped her from speaking. Kathleen could not be dead.

Angelo said, “We are sorry. I know you all loved her here.”

Joy nodded. “This keeps happening, Angelo. First Mia then Erica … and the others lately stalked and kidnapped and …why?” She rubbed the heel of her palm against her chest.

Marco approached her and wrapped his arms around her as her life changed forever, again. “I’m sorry, Joy.” He released her. “Do you want me to call Bella?”

Shaking her head, she said, “No. I’ll call her and the others in a bit.”

“Maybe you should take the day off?” Angelo suggested.

“No. No.” Joy rubbed her arm. “I’d like to focus on my work. It helps … helps me.”

“I have to let everyone in the office know. We’ll shut down early,” Lian said as he led the two men out.

The world went quiet. Kathleen was gone. Clearing her throat, sheer will drove Joy to her feet and back to her office. She flipped open a folder and went to work.

***

Sitting on a padded bench inside a cafe across from her friends, Joy stared out at the entryway as patrons walked in and out. The servers rushed from one customer to another, carrying trays of orders in a circular fashion. It was a full house with chattering voices giving her a headache, and smells of greasy food and coffee making her nauseous. Normally, she relished the hectic pace of the café, but not today.

Joy sipped her water, savouring the cold down her throat. “I can’t believe Kathleen is dead.”

Gabriella squeezed her shoulder. “I am sorry you had to go through that, Joy.” Sunlight shone on her face, making Gabriella squint. Threading her fingers through her chestnut brown bob-style cut, she shooed away a fly that landed on one of her blonde highlights.

Joy hated making Gabriella nervous. Her friend always fidgeted with her hair when she was upset or nervous. “I can’t believe she died from a drug overdose,” Joy said, voice cracking.

“It might have been a one-off. All it takes is one bad injection.” Bella sat on Joy’s other side. Her emerald green almond-shaped eyes radiated sympathy.

Joy nodded. “You could be right, but there’s still this part of me believing that I should have done more. I should have noticed something was wrong. Why would she even try it once?”

Gabriella shook her head. “Oh, Joy. Stop that, will you? You can’t help someone if you have to read their minds. Nothing more you could do.”

“Exactly right, girl. You can’t take responsibility for this,” said Liz from across the table. She towered above them all, even sitting.

“If I have learned anything these past few years, it is never to assume anything,” said Jamie from Liz’s right.” She had a regal look about her. Her eyes darkened. “I hope you are taking care of yourself, Joy. I know you are likely to be triggered after —”

Joy flailed her hands. “I will be fine, Jamie. All good. Please. Don’t be such a mother hen.”

Jamie laughed. “I am sorry, but a leopard does not change its spots.”

Joy drank down the remainder of her drink. “I should see how her sister, Ariana, is doing. I met her a few times when she visited Kathleen at the office. They were total opposites. Each time she visited, Ariana barely spoke to anyone, but Kathleen described her as a party girl.”

Jamie straightened her shoulders. “People can change.”

Bella brought up her glass. “Let’s make a toast.” She waited as each woman lifted their drinks. “To Kathleen.”

They clinked their glasses and took a sip, letting silence fall between them.

Bella leaned forward. “You do need time to process the grief, Joy, and if you are feeling overwhelmed, please call on me any time.”

Joy nodded. “Thanks, Bella. But I am sure if I ring you at midnight, Marco would have something to say about it.”

Bella chuckled. “He is the most understanding man I know, and he would be there for you and the others in a heartbeat. We are all here for you.”

“You’d think I’d be used to it by now. The grief. The pain.” Joy didn’t want to be reminded of her past, and the loss of Kathleen just brought everything back up. “But I will get through it.” She shifted in her seat, fighting against tears. The empty, dark pit in her stomach was hard to ignore, but she had to. It was best to move on and not dwell.

CLASH AND CONSULT

Joy hurried towards a recently built, grey brick-rendered home, a black satchel bumping into her thigh. The weight of her bag—filled with books, markers, and supplies—slowed her progress.

The warm wind swept against her skin as she made her way down a concrete path surrounded by mounds of dirt. Stopping at a heavy opaque glass door, she pulled it open and entered the bare living space. Lian stood next to a tall, handsome man with a short regal beard and hazel eyes. His light brown crew cut framed his oval face well. Joy rubbed her hands against her pants and struggled to catch her breath. “Hi, I finally made it.”

Lian smiled. “Good morning.”

“Sorry. Traffic was a nightmare.”

Lian looked at her sternly. “This is Edward Astbury. He’s the architect on-site. Edward, this is Joy, our esteemed interior designer. Ray is over there. He’s part of the construction team and Edward’s brother.” Ray took a moment to offer a wave before getting back to work.

The man put out his hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Joy.”

She shook it firmly. His touch sent a tingle up her wrist. “Same here.” She made her way around the living space and reached for the blueprint sitting on the table. “Impressive design. This was all you?”

Edward nodded. “Yes, it is to the client’s exact specifications. They want trendy decor, the most modern furniture and accessories, and I believe that is where you come in. The flooring is done, as you can see, but now I need to order the lighting fixtures and kitchen cabinets.”

“Do you have samples of the fixtures or cabinets? I’d like to make sure the furnishings and accessories match this space and other rooms.”

“Of course.”

Lian handed Joy a design contract. “I made a copy of this so you can be ready for when the clients arrive. They’ll be here in a half-hour. I’m heading for a cigarette break. I’ll be back.”

Joy bent down to her satchel, retrieving her notepad and pen. “Let’s take a tour of the rooms and discuss options.”

Edward’s eyes seared into her own, studying her. “Certainly.”

Joy appreciated his British accent; she had always thought the British sounded distinguished. “I can envision the bedroom space here, with a modern armoire, a lift-off bed for storage, and plush carpeting.”

He stood close to Joy and gave her his phone. “Scroll through these for the lighting fixture ideas.”

Joy scrutinised the photos but found them drab. “I don’t like these. Too archaic. Sorry. But I have my own thoughts.”

Edward stiffened and his brow raised. “These are the latest designs.”

Joy swallowed. “I know they are the latest designs, but they don’t suit the home and won’t match with my ideas.”

He sighed. “Right. It sounds as though we need to come to a compromise. Why don’t we speak to the clients and tour the remainder of the house I designed?”

“Sounds fine to me.” Joy made her way to the next room.

As they stood inside one of the bedrooms, Edward peered through the window. “I have ideas for the curtains, too.” He showed a range of dressings on his phone and she scrolled through each one.

[ER1]There could be some confusion here as it says her door - who's door? Chen's? The open shared office? Does Joy have a separate door belonging to her office only? Difficult to really picture the layout other than the two desks across from each other, the large window, and the pictures. Those are clear, but where Chen came from and the tearoom in relation to Joy's desk are not clear.