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‘There’s one thing that I would like to know,’ said Mma Ramotswe as she left the office. ‘That car - who owned it?’

Mr JLB Matekoni kept his voice low while he told her. ‘Charlie Gotso,’ he said. ‘Him, that one.’

Mma Ramotswe opened her eyes wide in surprise. ‘Gotso?’ Everyone knew Charlie Gotso. He was one of the most important men in Botswana. You always did what he asked. If you did not, life could become very difficult for you. ‘Oh,’ said Mma Ramotswe. ‘Exactly,’ said Mr JLB Matekoni.

Mma Ramotswe put the envelope with the bone in her desk. She left it there for a few days, but she could not forget about it. She did not want Mma Makutsi to see it. It was too dangerous. So she took the bone out of her desk and left the office. ‘I’m going to the bank,’ she told Mma Makutsi. But Mma Ramotswe did not go to the bank. She drove to the Princess Marina Hospital. She had a friend there, Dr Gulubane.

Dr Gulubane was very pleased to see her. ‘Come with me to my office,’ he said. ‘We can talk there.’

Mma Ramotswe followed him to his small office. ‘As you know,’ she began, ‘I’m a private detective these days. Can you tell me where this bone came from?’

She took out the envelope and opened it. The small bone fell out and Dr Gulubane picked it up.

‘It’s from a child,’ he said - ‘Eight or nine years old. Where did you get it?’

Mma Ramotswe could hear the sound of her own heart. ‘Somebody showed it to me,’ she said. ‘But can you tell me anything more? Do you know when– when the child died?’ Dr Gulubane looked at the bone again. ‘Not long ago,’ he said. ‘Maybe a few months, maybe less. You can’t be sure. But how do you know that the child is dead? People can lose a finger and still live!’

That evening, Mma Ramotswe invited Mr JLB Matekoni to dinner. She told him about her conversation with Dr Gulubane. ‘A child,’ said Mr JLB Matekoni sadly. ‘Yes,’ said Mma Ramotswe. ‘What do we do?’

Mr JLB Matekoni thought for a time. He did not want any trouble with a man like Charlie Gotso.

‘We can go to the police,’ he said at last. ‘But then Charlie Gotso will hear that I found the bag in his car.’

‘I don’t think we can go to the police,’ said Mma Ramotswe. ‘But we can’t just forget about this child. I have a plan. Charlie Gotso’s car is still in your garage. First you must break the window of the car. Then telephone Charlie Gotso. Tell him thieves brake into his car. Tell him you will pay for a new window. Then wait and see.’

‘To see what?’

‘Perhaps he will tell you that something is missing from the car. Tell him that you know a lady private detective. Tell him she can help him. That’s me, of course.’

And then?’

‘Then I’ll take the bag back to him and get the name of the witchdoctor from him. Then we’ll think what to do next.’

Mma Ramotswe’s plan sounded very simple. So the next morning Mr JLB Matekoni did as Mma Ramotswe asked. He broke a window of Charlie Gotso’s car and telephoned Charlie Gotso. In the afternoon, a visitor arrived at his garage - He was dressed like a soldier and wore an expensive snakeskin belt.

‘Mr Gotso sent me,’ he said. ‘He is very angry that someone has broken into his car in your garage.’

‘I’m very sorry, Rra,’ said Mr JLB Matekoni nervously.

‘All right, all right,’ said the man. ‘Just show me the car.’

Mr JLB Matekoni took the man to the car. The man opened the door and looked inside. Then he opened the box in front of the passenger seat.

‘There is something missing from here,’ he said. ‘Do you know anything about that?’ Mr JLB Matekoni shook his head. ‘Mr Gotso will not be pleased about this,’ said the man.

‘I know someone who can help,’ said Mr JLB Matekoni. ‘There’s a lady detective. She has an office near Kgale Hill.’ Mr JLB Matekoni smiled. ‘She’s a wonderful lady! She knows about everything that’s happening. If I ask her, she’ll be able to find out about this thing. She’ll find out what happened to it. Perhaps she can even get it back. What is it, this thing?’

‘Something that belongs to Mr Gotso,’ replied the man. ‘Can you ask that lady? Ask her to get this thing back to Mr Gotso.’

‘I will ask,’ said Mr JLB Matekoni. ‘I am sure that she can help.’ But Mr JLB Matekoni did not feel happy. ‘This is dangerous, and not my business,’ he thought. ‘I will tell Mma Ramotswe that I repair cars. I cannot repair people’s lives.’

He went to the No 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency.

‘Well,’ asked Mma Ramotswe. ‘Did everything go as we planned?’

‘Mma Ramotswe, I really think–’

‘Did Charlie Gotso come round, or did he send one of his men?’

‘One of his men. But listen. I am just–’

‘And did you tell him about me? Did he seem interested?’

‘I repair machines. I cannot– You see, I have never lied. I have never lied before, even when I was a small boy.’

‘You have done very well this time,’ said Mma Ramotswe. ‘Lies are all right if you are lying for a good reason. And the search for a child’s murderer is a very good reason. Are lies worse than murder, Mr JLB Matekoni? Do you think that?’

‘Murder is worse. But–’

‘You didn’t think about it carefully, did you? Now you know’

She looked at him and smiled, and he thought, ‘I am lucky. Here is somebody who likes me. Somebody who smiles at me. And she’s right. Murder is worse than lies.’

‘Come in for tea,’ said Mma Ramotswe. ‘We must decide what to do next.’

The next day, Mma Ramotswe went to see Charlie Gotso. Charlie Gotso liked fat women and he looked at her with interest.

‘You are the woman from Matekoni?”

‘Mr JLB Matekoni asked me to help him, Rra. I am a private detective.’

Mr Gotso smiled. ‘I have seen your sign. A private detective agency for ladies, or something like that.’

‘Not just for ladies, Rra,’ said Mma Ramotswe. ‘We are lady detectives, but we work for men too. Mr Patel, for example.’

Mr Gotso smiled again. ‘You think you can tell men things?’

Mma Ramotswe answered calmly. ‘Sometimes. But some men are too proud to listen. We can’t tell that sort of man anything.’

Mr Gotso narrowed his eyes. What did she mean? Was she talking about him, or other men?

‘You know I lost something from my car,’ he said. ‘Do you know who took it? Can you get it back for me?’

‘I have done that,’ said Mma Ramotswe. ‘I found out who broke into your car. They were only boys. They gave the thing to me.’

‘Where is it,’ asked Mr Gotso.

Mma Ramotswe reached into her handbag and took out the small bag. She put it on the table. Mr Gotso reached across and took it.

‘This is not mine, of course. I was looking after it for one of my men. I have no idea what it is.’

‘Muti, Rra. A witchdoctors medicine. I think it is very expensive and very strong. I would like some medicine like that. But I do not know where I can find it.’

Mr Gotso moved a little. ‘Maybe I can help you, Mma.’

Mma Ramotswe thought quickly, and then gave her answer.

‘I would like you to help me. Then maybe I can help you in some way.’

‘In what way can you help me?’

‘I think you are a man who likes information. And I hear some very interesting things in my business. For example, I can tell you about that man who is trying to build a shop next to yours in the Shopping Centre. He did some bad things before he came to Gaborone. He wouldn’t like people to know, I think.’

‘You are a very interesting woman, Mma Ramotswe,’ said Mr Gotso. ‘I think I understand you very well. I will give you the name of the witchdoctor if you give me this useful information.’ He picked up a small piece of paper. ‘I’m going to draw you a map. This witchdoctor lives out in the country, not far from Molepolole.’