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Authors: Alexander McCall Smith
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Regulation, you know. We have to regulate business. That’s why we have things like hawkers’ licences or general dealers’ licences, which we can take away from people who are not suitable to be hawkers or general dealers. You know how that works.”
It was Obed Ramotswe who answered; Obed Ramotswe through the lips of his daughter, his Precious.
“I cannot hear what you are saying, Rra. I cannot hear it.”
Mma Makutsi suddenly noisily shuffled the papers on her desk.
“Of course, you’re right, Mma,” she said. “You could not simply go up to that woman and ask her whether she was planning to kill her husband. That would not work.”
“No,” said Mma Ramotswe. “That is why we cannot do anything here.”
“On the other hand,” said Mma Makutsi quickly. “I have an idea. I think I know how this might be done.”
The Government Man twisted round to face Mma Makutsi.
“What is your idea, Mma?”
Mma Makutsi swallowed. Her large glasses seemed to shine with brightness at the force of the idea.
“Well,” she began. “It is important to get into the house and listen to what those people are talking about. It is important to watch that woman who is planning to do these wicked things. It is important to look into her heart.”
“Yes,” said the Government Man. “That is what I want you people to do. You look into that heart and find the evil. Then you shine a torch on the evil and say to my brother:
See! See this bad heart in your wife. See how she is plotting, plotting all the time!
”
“It wouldn’t be that simple,” said Mma Ramotswe. “Life is not that simple. It just isn’t.”
“Please, Mma,” said the Government Man. “Let us listen to this clever woman in glasses. She has some very good ideas.”
Mma Makutsi adjusted her glasses and continued. “There are servants in the house, aren’t there?”
“Five,” said the Government Man. “Then there are servants for outside. There are men who look after the cattle. And there are the old servants of my father. They cannot work anymore, but they sit in the sun outside the house and my father feeds them well. They are very fat.”
“So you see,” said Mma Makutsi. “An inside servant sees everything. A maid sees into the bed of the husband and wife, does she not? A cook sees into their stomachs. Servants are always there, watching, watching. They will talk to another servant. Servants know everything.”
“So you will go and talk to the servants?” asked the Government Man. “But will they talk to you? They will be worried about their jobs. They will just be quiet and say that there is nothing happening.”
“But Mma Ramotswe knows how to talk to people,” countered Mma Makutsi. “People talk to her. I have seen it. Can you not get her to stay in your father’s house for a few days? Can you not arrange that?”
“Of course I can,” said the Government Man. “I can tell my parents that there is a woman who has done me a political favour. She needs to be away from Gaborone for a few days because of some troubles here. They will take her.”
Mma Ramotswe glanced at Mma Makutsi. It was not her assistant’s place to make suggestions of this sort, particularly when their effect would be to railroad her into taking a case which she did not wish to take. She would have to speak to Mma Makutsi about this, but she did not wish to embarrass her in front of this man with his autocratic ways and his pride. She would accept the case, not because his thinly veiled threat had worked—that she had clearly stood up to by saying that she could not hear him—but because she had been presented with a way of finding out what needed to be found out.
“Very well,” she said. “We will take this on, Rra. Not because of anything you have said to me, particularly those things that I did not hear.” She paused, allowing the effect of her words to be felt. “But I will decide what to do once I am there. You must not interfere.”
The
It was Obed Ramotswe who answered; Obed Ramotswe through the lips of his daughter, his Precious.
“I cannot hear what you are saying, Rra. I cannot hear it.”
Mma Makutsi suddenly noisily shuffled the papers on her desk.
“Of course, you’re right, Mma,” she said. “You could not simply go up to that woman and ask her whether she was planning to kill her husband. That would not work.”
“No,” said Mma Ramotswe. “That is why we cannot do anything here.”
“On the other hand,” said Mma Makutsi quickly. “I have an idea. I think I know how this might be done.”
The Government Man twisted round to face Mma Makutsi.
“What is your idea, Mma?”
Mma Makutsi swallowed. Her large glasses seemed to shine with brightness at the force of the idea.
“Well,” she began. “It is important to get into the house and listen to what those people are talking about. It is important to watch that woman who is planning to do these wicked things. It is important to look into her heart.”
“Yes,” said the Government Man. “That is what I want you people to do. You look into that heart and find the evil. Then you shine a torch on the evil and say to my brother:
See! See this bad heart in your wife. See how she is plotting, plotting all the time!
”
“It wouldn’t be that simple,” said Mma Ramotswe. “Life is not that simple. It just isn’t.”
“Please, Mma,” said the Government Man. “Let us listen to this clever woman in glasses. She has some very good ideas.”
Mma Makutsi adjusted her glasses and continued. “There are servants in the house, aren’t there?”
“Five,” said the Government Man. “Then there are servants for outside. There are men who look after the cattle. And there are the old servants of my father. They cannot work anymore, but they sit in the sun outside the house and my father feeds them well. They are very fat.”
“So you see,” said Mma Makutsi. “An inside servant sees everything. A maid sees into the bed of the husband and wife, does she not? A cook sees into their stomachs. Servants are always there, watching, watching. They will talk to another servant. Servants know everything.”
“So you will go and talk to the servants?” asked the Government Man. “But will they talk to you? They will be worried about their jobs. They will just be quiet and say that there is nothing happening.”
“But Mma Ramotswe knows how to talk to people,” countered Mma Makutsi. “People talk to her. I have seen it. Can you not get her to stay in your father’s house for a few days? Can you not arrange that?”
“Of course I can,” said the Government Man. “I can tell my parents that there is a woman who has done me a political favour. She needs to be away from Gaborone for a few days because of some troubles here. They will take her.”
Mma Ramotswe glanced at Mma Makutsi. It was not her assistant’s place to make suggestions of this sort, particularly when their effect would be to railroad her into taking a case which she did not wish to take. She would have to speak to Mma Makutsi about this, but she did not wish to embarrass her in front of this man with his autocratic ways and his pride. She would accept the case, not because his thinly veiled threat had worked—that she had clearly stood up to by saying that she could not hear him—but because she had been presented with a way of finding out what needed to be found out.
“Very well,” she said. “We will take this on, Rra. Not because of anything you have said to me, particularly those things that I did not hear.” She paused, allowing the effect of her words to be felt. “But I will decide what to do once I am there. You must not interfere.”
The
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