The Pleasures of Deceit

By Naiobi James

Detective Phillip Russell is haunted by the death of his wife at the hands of an assailant sent to kill him. After the funeral, he relocates to protect his young daughters. It takes years for their lives to return to normal only to have his past catch up with him.

Dr. Noah Coleman struggles to make his doomed marriage work but ultimately loses the battle to his wife’s drug addiction. A messy divorce replaces his hopes of family and children and when his ex is discovered dead, her body decomposed. He takes a hiatus from life.

Kendra Lewiston wants independence from over-protective parents. She loses her heart and innocence to Kevin; she thinks she has found true love. When she discovers him in their bed with a male lover, she returns to her family home to lick her wounds. Ready to try again, she meets Luke, and though he plies her with diamonds and gold, suspicion turns to reality when she discovers the cost.

The Pleasures of Deceit is a story of three people whose lives are ripped apart by murder, drugs and deception and their struggle to find hope and love in a world that has spiraled out of control.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Sep 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781645759379

Naiobi James

Naiobi James is a mother, grandmother and great-grandmother. She worked as a computer programmer, is a retired RN and is the author of With Clear Intent. She reads in all genres so tends to genre-blend in her books. She shares a bungalow near the beach in Central Ontario with her four-year-old Yorkie.

Book preview

Chapter Two

Ralphie, Ralphie…you disappoint me! Bugsy Smallwood said as he came from around his large, rectangular glass desk to pace past the trembling, thin, rawboned man.

I send you to do a simple job and you fuck it up! You killed a woman? My own sainted mother was a woman! he said in reverence as he crossed himself. We don’t kill women and children, you know that!

But she saw me boss; what was I supposed to do?

Bugsy’s anger was so intense that he needed something to calm him, so he took a cellophane packet out of the breast pocket of his white Armani suit jacket, opened it, and dipped a long, manicured fingernail into it. He sniffed the white powder into first one nostril, then repeated the same for the other as he kept his focus on the little man before him. He stuffed the packet back into his pocket then smiled at Ralphie.

I guess you have a point, but that cop is still alive! he said as he paced back towards his desk.

He spun and fixed Ralphie with a look of understanding, Look, I know you tried your best. Maybe it’s time for you to take a little vacation; maybe I’ve been working you too hard.

His eyes darted to the door then back to Ralphie, who was his cousin, but was always a poor fit for the family. He saw the little man relax.

That would be a good idea; maybe until things settled down. Ralphie agreed, in the moments before his body jerked backwards, then crumbled to the floor, a gaping hole where the back of his head used to be.

Bugsy looked to where one of his bodyguards stood near the door; his weapon still raised in his hand.

Nice shot; now get this piece of shit out of my office!

Loren Marie Sinclair was laid to rest on a cloudy Saturday afternoon in Cedarview Memorial Gardens. Her parents wept for their only child as they tossed white roses onto the mahogany casket being lowered into the ground.

Kate and Sabryna flanked their father who was dressed in a slightly rumpled black suit at the gravesite where they stood across from their grandparents. In their small hands, they held roses of their own. Dressed in white summer frocks with a black satin sash at their waists, they kissed the petals on the flowers before they tossed them down to join myriad others.

Phillip held them by their hands to give them comfort and him the strength to make it through another difficult day. He found it hard to accept that the love of his life was dead because of the line of work he is in. He had no doubt it was a hit, that Loren was dead because she got home before he did. What if it had been the girls? He clutched their hands a little tighter.

Travis stood at Phillip’s side to lend him support and squeezed his shoulder several times during the eulogy when he felt his partner’s composure begin to slip. He knew that composure was now borne of rage. In the days following the murder, he learned that Bugsy Smallwood, a criminal they spent countless hours trying to bring to justice, might be involved.

A buffet was offered at the home of Loren’s parents after the interment. Many of the mourners drove to the ranch-style bungalow in Milton to pay their respects. During this time, Phillip kept his daughters close; although he saw the signs of withdrawal in Sabryna, who preferred to sit alone in the window seat in the living room.

Later that night, in a bedroom in his in-law’s house, Phillip wept for his wife while across the hall, his daughters wept for their mother who would never come home again.

Kate and Sabryna stayed with their grandparents until their father could decide what to do. He returned to his house against the advice of his partner, where he started to drink to kill the pain, then drink some more so he could sleep. He didn’t report to work, instead locked himself away from everyone.

He didn’t answer the phone or the door on the daily occasions when Travis tried to reach him. He didn’t eat or bathe; he was drowning in an ocean of grief. He wanted to die, so he could be with Loren and often woke at night calling to her as she appeared to him, bloodied, lost, and alone.

He didn’t hear the small pane of glass when it was hammered from the back door. He didn’t hear the footsteps tread the stairs, nor did he care when his bedroom door was eased open. When he turned his head, he stared through a haze of alcohol for a few moments before he could bring his partner into focus.

What’re ya doin’ here? he slurred around a belch.

Travis was stunned to see what his friend had become. The room smelled of sour booze, stale cigarettes, and unwashed body.

When did he start to smoke again?

Phillip needed a shower, shave, and a fresh set of clothes. He could also use a haircut and another place to be.

Hey, buddy, Travis responded as he stepped over the trash that littered the rug. I’ve been trying to reach you and since you don’t answer your phone, I had to do a little B and E to make sure you’re okay.

Phil shook his head; he didn’t care if it was a break and enter or the house was on fire.

Have you listened to the news lately? They found a body in the Hyde Park area. He was identified as Ralphie, one of Bugsy’s goons. They found traces of Lauren’s blood on his pants.

Phil’s jaw clenched at the thought of Loren’s blood being spilled. He and Travis had been working on Bugsy’s case for the last year or so. A small-time pimp with big aspirations, Bugsy took over when he put one of the major drug lords in an early grave and is now in control of the city’s illegal drug, prostitution, and money laundering rings to name a few.

Bugsy escaped a sting that Phillip spearheaded but his brother was gunned down, and although he threatened retribution, he had been in hiding until now.

When Phil tried to stand, he fell against the bed, so Travis helped him up and steered him towards the bathroom. When he was done donating the contents of his stomach to the toilet, he stripped, then stepped under the shower Travis ran for him. He flinched then yelped at the cold temperature that pimpled his skin then slid to the floor and sat there, head tipped up to catch the water on his face as he tried to sober up.

After a few minutes, Travis changed the temperature to tepid then left him with a soapy sponge, shower gel and shampoo. Fifteen minutes later, shaky but clean, Phillip sat in boxer shorts on a chair in the bedroom while his partner shaved him. He dressed in clean jeans and a T-shirt, then followed Travis downstairs, where he lit another cigarette while his partner boarded up the broken pane of glass.

"When did you decide to start that again? Travis asked as he nodded towards the cigarette that dangled from Phil’s shaky fingers. Loren worked hard to help you quit; do you want to throw all her hard work down the drain?"

Leave it alone! was the terse comeback.

Travis knew it was not the time to start admonishing his friend over behaviors borne from grief so let it drop.

How about we go get a couple of steaks? You look like you could use a good solid meal, Travis said instead.

I could use a good solid drink! Phil replied as he followed his friend and partner from the house.

Chapter Three

Phillip’s rage interfered with his ability to do his job; he was more focused on ending Bugsy’s life than bringing him to justice. He worked on the clock as well as off, against his commander’s orders and the stress of it all took its toll in the form of errors in judgment, unnecessary arrests, and covert raids carried out without authority and alone.

When called before a review board, he was given two options, accept a desk job or retire. He took the latter. He knew it was for the best, especially since the girls were still with their grandparents and he’d neglected them for too long.

Kate and Sabryna didn’t go to camp that summer; they went house hunting instead. Phillip drove north to Bay City, a bustling metropolis on the shores of Bay Island, then took the bridge across to the island, named for the water surrounding it.

They stayed at a small inn for a few days while being shown various properties for sale. After several viewings, they settled on a spacious three-bedroom century home that boasted a manicured front lawn, and a park-like backyard with a spacious patio.

Phillip and his daughters took possession within the month; three months after Loren’s death.

He wanted them as far from their nightmares and the painful loss of their mother as he could manage so engaged them in renovating their new home in an effort to keep them focused on the future instead of mired in a past they could not change.

By the time the house was restored, they’d marked the first anniversary of their loss. The girls made new friends and settled into a daily routine. They got involved with after school activities, which left Phillip alone more than he cared to be.

A tall quiet man with an athletic build, his jet-black hair had silvered at the sides. His skin held a healthier glow than it has in the months since his loss. He didn’t miss his work as a detective but needed something to fill up the hours in his day.

He walked down to the docks, a twenty-five-minute walk, where he noticed a large ferry used to taxi sightseers around the bay. Sailing was always a passion of his. He thought back to when and Loren used to plan their retirement around sailing; the sadness crawled through him as he made his way towards the ferry. He would inquire about a part-time job, anything to absorb the lonely hours in his day. What he ended up with was more than he’d planned on.

The ferry and the business around it were up for sale; the owner ready to retire. Within three weeks, he became the new owner and was in the process of obtaining his license to operate. When he met with the authorities, he inquired about using the ferry to taxi passengers from the docks downtown to other ports and piers sprinkled along the shores of the bay.

With the help of Kate and Sabryna, a good deal of time and money was spent to restore the ferry. The activity made the three of them grow closer, happier, and in love with life in their new world. He applied for and received permission from the city to operate the ferry and when asked to re-name the conveyance, the girls named it after their mother.

The Loren Marie was built to ferry. Her elegance was designed around the richness of cherrywood and the warmth of oak from the curtsy of her bow, across her manicured decks to her graceful stern.

Phil ran The Loren Marie eight hours a day and was available for private rental. He was at peace with himself and the loss of his wife; it has been six years. He watched his daughters as they stood at the bow of the ferry and smiled. They were no longer little girls but teenagers. Kate now sixteen, Sabryna eighteen.

They stopped for a late dinner at one of myriads of restaurants along the main road through town before they made their way home. It was a Friday evening routine after the last run was completed.

The muted sound of an antique mantle clock wrestled Phillip from his doze where he sat in the den. They watched old movies when they got home until almost one in the morning when the girls went to bed.

A dim light from a small table lamp illuminated the room. He lifted a glass from the table at his elbow and looked at the remnants of the drink that sat untouched since he made it. He swirled the amber liquid around and around before he carried it out to the kitchen and tossed it down the drain; he’d quit smoking the year after Loren’s death.

He rinsed the glass, sat it on the counter, went upstairs, and peeked in on his daughters where they slept in their rooms before he walked across the carpeted hallway and into his own room to slide into his cold, lonely bed.

Try as he might, he could not get to sleep. He tossed and turned until the early morning sun winked at him through the blinds at the window; it was five a.m. He threw back the blankets and sat at the edge of his bed, head in hands, elbows resting on his thighs as he thought of the day ahead. He got up, went down to the kitchen, and brewed a pot of strong coffee. He pulled ingredients from the cupboard for his signature almond vanilla pancakes and he’d just tossed another onto the stack of twenty when Sabryna walked in; it was almost six-thirty.

She stopped at his side and planted a kiss on his cheek.

Mornin’, Dad

Mornin’, sweetheart; you’re up a little early aren’t you? he asked as he watched her move towards the fridge.

I have a lecture at eight, she said as she poured a glass of orange juice and took a sip.

How about some breakfast; I’ll make some sausages to go with these.

No thanks, Dad

You have to eat sweetheart.

I will, I promise; I’ll make sure to grab something on campus.

She finished her juice, scooped a muffin from the basket on the table, and disappeared down the hall. Phillip trailed behind her.

I’ll see you tonight, she said and smiled at him before she lifted her backpack onto her shoulder.

He stood in the hall and listened to the soft whoosh of the door behind her before he returned to the kitchen, where he continued to make the rest of the pancakes and toss a pound of sausage links into a frying pan. He knew his youngest would be awake soon, always ready with a healthy appetite, no matter which meal of the day.

It was almost seven-thirty when Kate wandered into the kitchen. After a big yawn and an even bigger stretch, she wrapped her arms around her father’s waist where he stood at the sink and snuggled against his side.

He kissed her at the temple, Good morning, pumpkin; have a good sleep?

Yep; but I can tell by the number of pancakes you’ve made that you didn’t!

Both his girls knew he cooked when he suffered a sleepless night. It was nothing for them to wake up to a roast in the oven, piles of muffins, or stacks of pancakes, just to name a few of the culinary delights that they would be faced with on any given morning.

She slid onto a stool at the breakfast counter and watched as he placed several link sausages and a couple of pancakes on a plate. She smiled her thanks when he handed it to her, poured lots of maple syrup over everything then dug in. When he joined her, she asked the one question that had been on her mind quite often of late.

Dad, don’t you think it’s time you were dating again? It’s been over six years now and even though we miss Mom, you always said that life must go on! Sabryna and I talked it over and we think it’s a good idea.

He smiled but remained silent. He sipped his coffee to borrow time before he answered. He saw the way some of the women in town and on his ferry looked at him; they had permanent written all over them. He was polite but remained distant. What he hoped for one day was companionship that was uncomplicated, no commitments.

Dad?

Her voice roused him from his musing. He smiled at her as he forked a piece of sausage into his mouth.

That lady who lives at Rose Hill is really nice; she’s on the ferry a lot. Maybe you should ask her out. She’s a widow, you know.

How do you know so much about her?

He was surprised at what Kate knew about the woman he’d noticed on more than one occasion.

Sabryna and I have been talking to her off and on since we moved here when we see her in her garden. Her house is on the way to school and when we are on our way home, she sometimes invites us in for tea. She’s really a nice lady, Dad.

He knew her enthusiasm was spawned by her desire for a mother.

Maybe, pumpkin; I don’t want you or your sister to worry about me. I’ll be fine.

He took another sip of his coffee and concentrated on his breakfast, a signal to his daughter that the subject was closed.

I’ve got to get the ferry ready for the daily runs so I’m going to go take a shower and get dressed. Finish eating and when you’re ready, I’ll drive you to school before I go down to the docks, okay?

Okay, Daddy, she replied around a mouthful of pancakes. She drained her glass of milk then reached for another pancake. She took her time with the syrupy goodness and when she finished, placed her dishes in the dishwasher and ran upstairs to get ready for school.

Phillip’s mind was on the talk he had with Kate that morning as he watched the activity on the pier in preparation for his first run around the bay; maybe he would try one date.

The idea barely formed in his mind when his thoughts turned to the lady suggested by his younger daughter; a small, pleasant-looking woman with a warm smile, skin the color of caramel cream and chestnut-colored hair streaked with silver. She was a regular on the cruise around the bay; would ride around, sometimes twice, then take a taxi home.

He noticed her on occasion when she sat munching an apple or while she walked along the decks, exploring the nooks and crannies of his beloved Loren Marie. He’d seen her in town and a few times in her expansive rose garden when he would collect his daughter from school. Her house was a large Victorian and sat on a piece of property apart from the others in the area.

He never spoke to her but tipped his hat or touched his brim so she knew he was aware of her. Each time he thought to speak to her when she was on board The Loren Marie, his attention was captured by another passenger’s needs.

Maybe I should make more of an effort.

Meredith Baker-Wainright stood at the bow and watched as The Loren Marie sluice gracefully through the blue-grey water of the bay. It was a hot mid-June morning; she had on a pair of khaki capris and a lettuce green tee shirt. Running shoes kept her firmly planted as the ferry pitched and swayed with the mood of the bay.

She used these trips as a means of escape; desperately lonely since cancer took her husband five long years ago. She never worked; Will preferred to take care of her and left her more than well provided for so she could continue to live financially independent. In his generosity, he bought Rose Hill as a wedding present for her and over the years, they worked side by side to restore it to its original splendor.

Meredith noticed Phillip when he and his girls first moved into the house a dear friend of hers used to live in. She was glad it would no longer sit empty.

Letty would be glad to know it contained warmth and happiness again as it did when she was alive.

The local gossip mongers filled in everyone’s blanks, so she knew he was a widower. She didn’t fling her cap in his arena like some of the women did when they decided he should come out of mourning, instead she preferred the occasional nods of recognition when he passed her as she worked in her garden or saw her in town.

She spoke quite often to the girls; knew their father had purchased the ferry and planned to restore it. She watched them turn into young women over the years and was more than happy, once the ferry became operational, to ride it each day. It was something to look forward to, something to do to eat up the hours in her day.

The Loren Marie was guided into its slip; the bump against the dock stirred Meredith from her thoughts. When the passengers disembarked, she stayed on board; she would ride it around again. She leaned against the railing near the stern and stared across the horizon while waiting for the engines to rumble to life once more.

Phillip seized the opportunity and approached her; he felt moisture bead along his forehead just under the rim of his cap.

Mornin’, ma’am; my name is Phillip…um…Captain Phillip Russell. I see you’ve decided to take another turn. If I can assist you in any way, I am at your service.

She turned at the sound of his voice, its timber a soft deep baritone. Her own voice dried, the words stuck in her throat. Her hand flew to her neck as her fingers toyed with the gold chain she wore that disappeared into the collar of her tee.

Thank you, I’m Meredith…Meredith Baker-Wainright. I…

Her words and the magic of the moment were cut off by the sounds of children’s screams. They turned in the direction of the disturbance and saw two young boys fighting.

He turned back to her, a resigned smile on his face.

Please excuse me; it seems I am needed elsewhere. It is nice to make your acquaintance; I hope we’ll meet again soon.

He touched two fingers to the bill of his cap in salute then walked toward the boys. By now, they were tangled on the deck in a heap of flailing arms and kicking legs.

Meredith smiled as she watched him separate the youngsters, have a few words with them before he sent them on their way. She noticed his athletic frame clothed in navy slacks and blazer; a white open-necked shirt showed off the healthy glow of his skin. His hands were large and looked strong, yet they were gentle when he dealt with the children. For just a moment, she wondered what it would feel like to be held by him.

Where did that come from?

She gave her head a shake to rid it of the wayward thought and tore her eyes away from the captain to watch as new passengers boarded.

Chapter Four

Noah settled into his seat and stretched his arms along the backrest; his six-month old female Golden Retriever he named Buster lay at his feet. He was going to spend the week fishing and camping with friends, a much-needed break. Dan was going to pick him up in a few hours, so he had enough time to take this cruise before he arrived. His life was in turmoil again and his thoughts turned to the reason why.

Claire was shorter than his usual taste, very polite, and neat with her appearance in an obsessive-compulsive sort of way. Her features always looked pinched when she spoke to others, as though something sour and repugnant stained the air she breathed.

Funny…I never noticed that until now!

Dark brown hair paired with venomous brown eyes completed the portrait of someone he thought he knew and loved.

I really thought we had something.

He shook his head and tried to clear his mind.

Ticket please…

The Captain’s voice wrestled him from his thoughts. He dug into his shirt pocket to produce his ticket.

Enjoy the trip, the Captain said as he tipped his hat then moved on to his next passenger.

He would if he could rid himself of the mind chatter.

When The Loren Marie returned to shore, she was guided into her mooring. The passengers lined up in preparation to disembark as goodbyes were said to friends made during the trip.

Meredith’s eyes sought Phillips, his sought hers. They saw one another at the same moment and when they smiled, something stirred between them, neither knew what. She raised her hand to wave goodbye then left the ferry.

A taxi sat, unoccupied, so she hurried over, opened the door, and slid onto the worn, lumpy leather of the back seat. She gave the driver her address then watched as the bay slipped from view when the taxi merged into traffic and headed towards Rose Hill.

The trip home seemed shorter than usual. She climbed the steps to the front door, turned the key in the lock, and stepped inside where loneliness waited to drape itself over her.

Noah was met by Dan, a friend since their med school days and a colleague at Cedarview Memorial Hospital where they both practiced.

Hey, buddy, how are ya?

He took Noah’s hand in his firm grip and pumped it in greeting then ruffled Buster’s ears.

Noah surveyed the scenery around him before he and Buster climbed into the SUV. Dan stowed Noah’s duffle in the back then slid behind the wheel.

The docks fell into the distance as the car ate up the miles heading towards the cabin on the other side of the island. Noah’s mind strayed back to the drama his life has been for the last six years.

He met her at a fundraiser where big bucks were tickled from the pockets of old, moneyed patrons who always dug deep for their favorite cause. Their courtship was brief, the marriage sudden and a surprise to both family and friends.

Noah remembered the concerns of his colleagues; Dan counted amongst them, Are you sure you should do this; why not wait until you know her a little better. Don’t rush into something you may regret.

Those last three words had become a sort of mantra of late, …you may regret.

He squirmed in his seat as he felt the old wounds start to fray around the edges.

Dan took his eyes from the road long enough to glance at Noah. He started to say something then decided to leave his friend to his thoughts and turned his attention back