“From far away,” said Nina, “I think it’s pretty.”

A striking woman walked toward them, smiling. Several inches taller than Nina, Lindy Markov gave the impression of even greater height. Willowy, with warm coppery hair, she had expressive brown eyes over a prominent nose and jawline. A gold collar-style Egyptian necklace adorned her neckline, dressing up the rust-colored dress she wore over a body as muscular and wiry as an exercise guru’s. She might be anywhere over forty. She had reached that certain ageless age.

“Hello, Nina Reilly. I’ve heard so much about you. I recognize you from the paper, of course. Sarah de Beers and some other friends told me you did good work for them. Thanks for coming to join in the surprise for Mike.”

“How are you going to surprise him? I mean, this boat…”

“Oh, he doesn’t know I filled it up with friends. He just thought we were taking a dinner cruise to celebrate his birthday.” She looked around. “He’s going to love this. He loves surprises,” she said, but she looked unconvinced, even apprehensive. Nina thought, uh-oh. Something is not right.

“I hope everybody gets here on time. Mike’s due at seven.” She looked anxiously toward the door as another couple arrived, relaxing as she turned her attention back to Paul. “Mr. Van Wagoner.” She shook his hand, holding it for a moment before letting go. “So you’re a private investigator.” Her eyes probed his in the dim light. “Do you dance?”

“Naturally.”

She flashed a bright smile. Nina, who knew a stressed-out lady when she saw her, read worry verging on panic in it. “Save one for me.” She turned away to look at the door again. More guests, not Mike Markov. She excused herself to meet the next crop.

Nina couldn’t imagine how they could stuff more people inside. The decks were full of guests dancing, drinking, and snacking. The usual casual tour boat had been transformed-waiters in black suits dipped and posed with silver trays full of hot treats for the guests; tables with white cloths and real silver for a massive buffet dinner had been set up in the midsection of the center deck.

What must be hundreds of people murmured and milled through the scene, dreamlike in the dusk. Once her eyes adjusted, Nina said hello to a number of them: Judge Milne, who was rumored to be considering retirement, Bill Galway, the new mayor of South Lake Tahoe, and a few former clients. She stayed with the group where the judge was holding forth, and Paul wandered off. Seven o’clock came and went, and the waiters made sure no glass ever emptied, but Mike Markov didn’t come and the boat sat at the dock as the lake and sky flickered with the fire of sunset.

By the time the guest of honor finally appeared, everyone, including Nina, had had too much to drink. A lookout gave an advance warning, and a hush fell over the boat.

Nina saw him come aboard. Looking like a man with a lot on his mind, he walked right into Lindy’s waiting arms. He was stocky with dark skin, about the same height as Lindy. He embraced her quickly, revealing muscular forearms. “I’m sorry I’m so late,” he said. “I was afraid the boat would be long gone.” He looked around, puzzled. “Where is everybody?” he asked.

“Surprise!” the crowd shouted. The waiters popped another round of champagne. People poured out of the woodwork to pat him on the back.

For a moment, shock poised over his features like the shadow of Lizzie Borden’s ax. Nina had time to think, God, he’s having a heart attack…

He shuddered. In that first second he looked only at Lindy, suppressing some unreadable emotion. Then, like magic, as he turned to his guests a cloak of good humor dropped into place. He began to stroll through the crowd accepting genuinely warm congratulations, shaking hands as he greeted people.

“My God, Mikey. Fifty-five. Whoever thought we’d get there?”

“You look damn good for such an old fella!” This said by a bald man leaning heavily on a walker, who had to be teetering toward ninety.

“Great excuse to have a helluva good time, eh, Mike? Like old times.”

Lindy trailed behind for a bit, then caught up with him, taking her place by his side. Nina stayed behind as hands thumped him on the back and good wishes floated on the air.

The engine started up. The paddle wheel at the stern began to churn up water, and a mournful, low blast from the horn cut through the sound of revelry, of wind, of evening birds and insects chirping away on land.

Just as the paddle started up and the big boat began to move smoothly away from the dock, Nina saw the final guest arrive.

The young woman came onboard quietly. In her midtwenties, with black hair so long it hung almost to the hem of her dress, the girl wore strappy sandals that crept up her calves like trained ivy. Nina thought someone should say hello and show her the way to the bar. She started toward her, but after a quick glance around, the girl dropped her coat on a chair in the corner, collected champagne from a passing tray, and downed the first half of her drink, edging over to blend into a group of people standing by the door who apparently knew her. “Rachel, honey. Somehow we didn’t expect to see you here tonight,” a snickering, booze-laden voice called out to her.

Nina wandered off to find Paul, who was watching the great wheel make its waterfall at the back of the boat.

The enclosed main deck, a huge, dark space alive with undulant bodies, still pitched with music from a live band. Far from deflating once the honored guest had eaten his cake and endured a shower of fantastic presents, the party was heating up. Nina dragged Paul to the dance floor, where they danced and danced some more. When a moment of clearheadedness intruded on her whirling brain, she moved outside to get a breath of fresh air, losing Paul somewhere along the way.

At the front of the boat next to the staircase, she leaned unsteadily against the wall of the cabin. They had reached Emerald Bay and the boat was circling Fannette Island, the rocky islet at its center.

In the shadow of the western mountains the water was indigo streaked with green, like shot silk. Fannette rose in solitary splendor out of the bay into a tree-studded granite hill. At the top, the ruin of a rich woman’s teahouse presided over the whole sweep of bay.

Nina had always wanted to visit the tiny island. The stone ruin at the top looked inviting under the fading tangerine glow of the sky. She imagined what the teahouse must have been like back in the twenties, a rustic table and chairs for furniture, candlelight, a roaring fire; and Mrs. Knight, coercing friends from the city into the steep climb, long dresses hiked up, waiters with trays and tea sets leading the way.

Someone on the deck above spilled a drink and laughed, then complained about the chill. Whoever was up there went back inside, and the night fell into the shushing of the paddle wheel and the drone of the boat’s motor. Nina closed her eyes and sank into a woozy meditation on the high life, and what to do with Paul after the party. Questions swam through her mind as the night’s cool air, balmy and soothing, wrapped itself around her.

The door opened and two people stepped out. They didn’t see her tucked away beside the stairway. She didn’t feel like starting a conversation, so she said nothing. She would be leaving in just a sec, just as soon as she adjusted her shoe around the new blister forming on her heel.

“I thought you were going to wait for me at the marina,” a man said quietly. “We would have been back in another hour.”

“I just couldn’t wait.” The voice was a young woman’s, and it sounded a little defiant.

“Did you know about this crazy surprise thing?”

“No,” said the girl. “Have you told her yet?”

“With all our friends around?”

“You swore!”

“Honey, how can I? I thought we’d be out here with strangers.”