McCall wakes, hung over from celebrating his 40th birthday, to find a dead 'un sitting in a lawn chair on the rooftop deck of his floating home. No one who knows McCall knows the corpse, few can even remember him from the previous night's party, though he must have passed among them to arrive at his destination. Apparently they give good party on Granville Island.

McCall is a commercial photographer, not a detective, but that doesn't keep him out of the dead man's business, even as he deals with his sister's mid-life ennui, the stuttering opportunity to build his business up several notches, a dispute between his ex-wife, daughter and two ferrets, a live-in-but-no-pressure romance with the heroine of a sword and stone television series (complete with action figures) filming around the city, the sudden appearance of his battling parents, and the assorted exotics who inhabit his floating neighbourhood and local pub. More French farce than noir, the objective is to have everyone sorted and back where they belong by novel's end.

Blair lives in Montreal but he evokes his west-coast location with the clarity of someone who longs to be there, at least through winter. As a freelance technical writer, he is particularly skilled at describing the subtle strategies of operating a small business, but the book's main strength is as a funny and solid entertainer, crisply written and eagerly read.