An exhilarating sail in brisk winds took us on three long tacks across English Bay and into Queen Charlotte Channel. As I adjusted the sails and vane to continue easing Tastevin from close-hauled to a broad reach toward Howe Sound, I looked up at Lorne's smiling face and said, "Not as intimidating as I thought it would be."

He shrugged. "Told you it's easy doing it this way."

"But ballsy of you allowing me to do it."

"No, not at all, Kate. You understand the theory and the process from your father's boat. The principles are no different here. Size doesn't matter."

My mind flashed to Cyclops, then to Nathan's pebbled pickle, and I blew a loud breath. "Size may or may not, but technique certainly does. So much better doing it slowly. We always did it fast – tiller over and scramble on the sheets."

"With our huge sails in this wind, it would be foolhardy to fall off quickly without two or three additional crew."

I gave another pull on the wind vane line and barked the jenny and staysail sheets a few more feet. "Ummm. I prefer it relaxed and in full control like this – similar to the tweaking always necessary after the scramble."

"Indeed." Lorne nodded toward a winch. "When you have us settled on the left edge of Bowyer, I'll show you how to adjust the vang to add more belly to the main. Give us an additional knot or two."

Over the next few hours, we wound our way among the islands, and between alterations and adjustments, we dug into the restaurant review sites, Lorne creating a new spreadsheet on his computer. By the time we were off Kits Point and ready to luff, we had another large list of links for the RCMP geeks to analyse.

As we motored into False Creek, I asked, "Do you ever investigate? Or do you always turn it over to the police?"

"No and yes." He chuckled. "No, my mandate is to represent the criminal code and prosecute alleged offenders. While I can point the police to sources of evidence, I must leave the investigations to them."

"So, you're not jeopardising your position by telling them about our suspicions."

"No, not in the least. But with my bias about this, I'll stand down from being appointed if sufficient evidence is found to bring them to trial."

"Yeah, and if they're charged, they'll likely weasel their way through their polished loopholes."

"Then, we must find ways to prevent them from doing that."

A few minutes later, Lorne pointed to his slip in Quayside. "You take her alongside, Kate."

"What? No!"

"Why not?"

"I'll muck it up."

"You did superbly practising on the float in Plumper Cove."

"With you coaching me."

"The first two approaches, yes. But the next two were all yours."

Four minutes later, Lorne looped the breast line around the bollard and snugged its end to a deck cleat as Tastevin settled to her fenders on the float. "See? Simple."

"Yeah. With you beside me as an emergency backup." I glanced at the time on the bulkhead clock and wrote the log entry.

Then, while I assisted Lorne with the mooring lines, he said, "We've a little under an hour and a quarter. No rush, but neither is there time to dally."

I looked down at my mid-calf smock and chuckled. "It'll take me no time to dress. One of its benefits, I suppose – just throw it over whatever and be ready for the world to not see."

An hour and a bit later, with Lorne elegantly dressed in a blush-pink open-neck shirt, a blue blazer and camel slacks, and me in my scarf and tent, we left the SkyTrain station and walked along West Cordova toward Water Street, continuing our conversation.

He pursed his lips and shook his head. "That's not wise, Kate. It would rouse suspicion."

"No, not at all. Alcohol consumption among Canadian Muslims is far from uncommon, and it's on the rise. Thirty-five to forty per cent of them now occasionally imbibe, about half the national average of seventy-five."

"But the Quran? The prohibition?"

"Progressive interpretations consider that as being for abuse and drunkenness, not for moderate consumption."

"How do you know this?"

"Researched it while you dressed." I giggled. "I now understand Dad's grumblings about Mum taking forever."

A few minutes later, as we entered Nuance, Michael strode across the lobby, his hand extended to shake Lorne's. "Good to see you again, Mr K." Then tilting his head toward the waiting crowd, he continued, "With it so busy, we thought it best to put you in one of our private dining rooms. Please, this way."

He guided us past the crowd in the lobby and into the packed restaurant. "We seat one eighty down here in three rooms," he said as he led us to a cordoned staircase, a sweeping spiral dominating a corner of the second dining room. "Another hundred or so in four private rooms upstairs, all with harbour views."

"All the same size?" I asked.

"No, there's a small and a medium. Plus there are two larger ones which can be combined to seat up to sixty. We're licensed for three hundred and twenty, including the bar in the reception lounge." He looked past me, and continued, "There's an elevator over there if you wish."

We opted for the stairs, then up them and along a hall, he quietly opened a door and allowed us a peek, whispering, "Dinner meeting in progress — for eighteen."

Oh, God! So many familiar faces.

He led us further along the hallway, and opening another door, he said, "We'll serve you in here."

The small room was decorated with quiet elegance, the focus being on the unimpeded view of the harbour and the North Shore mountains. Centred in the wall-filling window sat a large four-top, draped and laid with two settings. As I drank it in, Michael continued, "We can configure this room for up to sixteen."

After we were seated, he said, "The sommelier and a waiter will be with you shortly. Enjoy your evening."

When Michael had left, I said, "So far, it gets five stars."

"Yeah, superb ambience." Lorne stood and moved his chair from opposite me to beside me across the table's corner. "But this is even better."

"But better still..." I stood and pointed at the pedestal. "Simple to rotate this to diagonal. Give us both the easy view and the closeness."

When we had rearranged the table and moved Lorne's place setting, he assisted me to my seat, bending to whisper in my ear, "Don't look. PTZ cameras. Likely with sound."

Oh, God! "Ummm, you say the sweetest things, Lorne. Love you too."

The door behind us clicked, and a voice said, "Good evening. As a welcome to Nuance, we'll start you with a glass of Möet & Chandon Brut. What may I bring the lady?"

"I'll have Champagne, as well."

As he poured mine, he said, "Yes, moderation, rather than abstinence, a growing trend."

While the sommelier poured Lorne's, a waiter arrived and placed plates in front of us. "The chef's selection of amuse-bouches to accompany. May I tell you about this evening's specials?"

Lorne nodded. "Yes, please."

The fortyish man looked at a sheet of paper as he recited, "Seared Texada scallops with flame-roasted red pepper quarters, Dungeness crab ravioli with truffle beurre blanc, torchon of Lasquiti foie gras with Sechelt huckleberry purée, Howe Sound red snapper with lemongrass glaze and octopus bacon, free-range Langley duckling à la rouennaise, and Pemberton yearling venison Wellington with Madeira sauce."

I salivated as I listened, then the waiter looked up from the list and added, "The sommelier has chosen accompanying glasses for each of these. I'll give you a few minutes to decide."

Then, setting two menus and the list of daily specials on our table, he turned and left.

"Oh, God! I want all of them."

"As do I. Tough choice." Lorne opened one of the menus and placed it on the table between us. "But to be fair, we should choose some of their regular dishes, as well."

I gave him a quizzical look. What? Why? We know it's likely... Lorne's lip brush and his soft whiskers nuzzling my cheek interrupted my thoughts, then he whispered, "Confirm they're watching and listening."

I giggled. "Not here – not that I don't want to. Love you to bits, you silly man, but someone may walk in on us."

"Yeah, sorry. Carried away by the ambience. Love your bits too." He chuckled. "But seriously, I've loved you since before time."

We did a light lip brush and turned our attention to the menu. Within a minute, Michael entered and approached our table, saying, "The waiter forgot to mention that the chef would love to present all the specials as a tasting menu – six half portions each with six wines."