She closed her eyes. It was easier to be strong, she thought, if one had one’s eyes closed; although that would only work to a limited extent. One could not go around indefinitely with one’s eyes closed, especially if one was a detective. Quite apart from anything else, that was in direct contradiction of the advice which Clovis Andersen gave in The Principles of Private Detection, one chapter of which was entitled “The Importance of Keeping Your Eyes Open.” Had Clovis Andersen ever been on a diet? she wondered. There was a picture of him on the back cover, and although Mma Ramotswe had never paid much attention to it, now that she brought it to mind, one salient feature of it leapt out. Clovis Andersen was traditionally built.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

MR POLOPETSI TRIES TO BE HELPFUL

MMA MAKUTSI was already in the office of the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency when Mma Ramotswe arrived there the following morning.

“So, Mma,” said Mma Ramotswe, after formal greetings had been exchanged. “So, there you are chasing after our friend, Mr Cedric Disani. What have you managed to uncover today?”

Mma Makutsi picked up a piece of paper and brandished it. “There is a small farm down near Lobatse. I have the details here. It is meant to be the property of his brother, but I have already spoken on the telephone to the people down there who sell cattle dip. They say that it is always Mr Cedric Disani who comes to buy the dip and it is always his name on the cheques. The lawyers will be interested to hear this. I think they want to show that he is really the owner.”

“They will be very pleased with your work,” said Mma Ramotswe, adding, “And Mr Disani will be very displeased.”

Mma Makutsi laughed. “We cannot please everybody.”

They chatted for a few minutes more before Mma Makutsi offered to make Mma Ramotswe a cup of tea.

“I have brought in some doughnuts,” she said. “Phuti gave me some last night. He has sent one for you and one for Mr J.L.B. Matekoni.”

Mma Ramotswe’s face lit up. “That is very kind of him,” she said. “A doughnut …” She trailed off. She had remembered about her diet. She had eaten one slice of toast that morning, and a banana, and her stomach felt light and empty. A doughnut was exactly what she wanted; a doughnut with a dusting of coarse sugar on the outside, enough to give a bit of a crunch and to line one’s lips with white, and a layer of sweetened oil soaked into the dough itself. Such bliss. Such bliss.

“I don’t think that I shall have a doughnut, Mma,” she said. “You may eat mine today.”