Mma Ramotswe could not help but smile, and she peered down at her desk with intense interest, trying to hide her expression from Mma Makutsi.

“What do you think, Mma Ramotswe?” asked Mr Polopetsi. “Do you think that Mma Makutsi should wear shoes like that?”

“It is none of my business, Rra,” said Mma Ramotswe. “Mma Makutsi is old enough to choose her own shoes.”

“Yes,” said Mma Makutsi defiantly. “I don’t comment on your shoes, and you should not comment on mine. It is very rude for a man to comment on a woman’s shoes. That is well known, isn’t it, Mma Ramotswe?”

“Yes, it is,” said Mma Ramotswe loyally. “And anyway, Mr Polopetsi, did you want to see us about something?”

Mr Polopetsi walked across the room and sat in the client’s chair, uninvited. “I have something to show you,” he said. “It is out at the back. But first I will tell you something. You remember when we went out to Mokolodi? There was something wrong there, wasn’t there?”

Mma Ramotswe nodded, but was non-committal. “I do not think that everything was right.”

“People were frightened, weren’t they?” pressed Mr Polopetsi. “Did you notice that?”

“Maybe,” said Mma Ramotswe.

“Well, I certainly noticed it,” said Mr Polopetsi. “And while you were talking to people, I did a bit of investigating. I dug a bit deeper.”

Mma Ramotswe frowned. It was not for Mr Polopetsi to dig deeper. That was not why she had taken him down to Mokolodi. He was a perceptive man, and an intelligent one, but he should not think that he could initiate enquiries. Not even Mma Makutsi, with her considerable experience in the field, initiated investigations without first talking to Mma Ramotswe about it. This was a simple question of accountability. If anything went wrong, then it would be Mma Ramotswe who would have to bear responsibility as principal. For this reason she had to know what was going on.

She composed herself to talk firmly to Mr Polopetsi. She did not relish doing this, but she was the boss, after all, and she could not shirk her duty.

“Mr Polopetsi,” she began. “I do not think …”

He cut her off, brightly raising a finger in the air, as if to point to the source of his inspiration.

“It was all to do with a bird,” he said. “Would you believe it, Mma Ramotswe? A bird was responsible for all that fear and worry.”

Mma Ramotswe was silenced. Of course it was to do with a bird—she had found that out eventually, had winkled the information out of that girl in the restaurant. But she had not expected that Mr Polopetsi, who had no contacts there, would have found out the same thing.

“I did know about the bird,” she said gravely. “And I was going to do something about it for them.”