At the end of the story, Dr Moffat shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid that the only conclusion we can reach is that this Dr Lubega is substituting a cheap generic for a costly drug but charging his patients the full cost.”

“And that would harm them?” she asked.

“It could,” said Dr Moffat. “Some of the generics are all right, but others do not necessarily do what they’re meant to. There’s an issue of purity, you see. Of course, this doctor may have thought that everything would be all right and that no harm would come to anybody, but that’s not good enough. You don’t take that sort of risk. And you definitely don’t commit fraud on your patients.” He shook his head. “We’ll have to report this, of course. You know that?”

Mma Ramotswe sighed. That was the trouble with getting involved in these things; one got drawn in. There were reports. Dr Moffat sensed her weariness. “I’ll have a word with the ministry,” he said. “It’s easier that way.”

Mma Ramotswe smiled her appreciation and took a sip of her tea. She wondered why a doctor would need to defraud his patients when he could already make a perfectly comfortable living in legitimate practice. Of course, he could have hire-purchase payments or school fees or debts to pay off; one never knew. Or he could need the money because somebody was extorting money out of him. Blackmail drove people to extremes of desperation. And a doctor would be a tempting target for blackmail if he had a dark secret to conceal … But it seemed a little bit unlikely to her. It was probably just greed, simple greed. The desire to own a Mercedes-Benz, for example. That could drive people to all sorts of mischief.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

WAITING FOR A VISIT

THE NEXT MORNING when Mma Ramotswe arrived at the shared premises of Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors and the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency, she found Mr Polopetsi with his head under a car. She was always wary of calling out to a mechanic when he was under a car, as they inevitably bumped their heads in surprise. And so she bent down and whispered to him, “Dumela, Rra. Have you anything to tell me?”

Mr Polopetsi heaved himself out from under the car and wiped his hands on a piece of cloth. “Yes, I do,” he said keenly. “I have some very interesting news for you.”

“You found Poppy?”

“Yes, I found her.”

“And you had a word with her?”

“Yes, I did.”

Mma Ramotswe looked at him expectantly. “Well?”

“I asked her whether she had written a letter to anybody about what had happened. That is exactly what I asked her.”

Mma Ramotswe felt herself becoming impatient. “Come on, Mr Polopetsi. Tell me what she said.”