She felt better for having struck a blow for truth-telling and accuracy. She would tell Mma Ramotswe about that when she came back with the van; she would approve of it, she imagined, as she was a very truthful woman and did not like people who made false claims. She would certainly approve of this … or would she? Suddenly Mma Makutsi was visited by doubts. It occurred to her now that Mma Ramotswe might think it rather unkind to give a lecture of this sort—and a recorded lecture to boot—to a minister of religion who was only trying to be helpful to the people who telephoned him. Might not Mma Ramotswe say something like, “Well, Mma, many of the people who call that man will be troubled in some way. Maybe they will have somebody who is late and they will be phoning him about that. Maybe that is why he is trying to make them feel better.”

Mma Makutsi thought a little longer and then picked up the telephone and dialled the number again. She had decided to leave another message saying that she had not quite meant what she had said, but this time the telephone was answered by the minister.

For a few moments, Mma Makutsi was unsure what to say, and even considered putting down the receiver, like a child who is caught playing with the telephone.

But better judgement prevailed. “It is Mma Makutsi,” she said. “I left a message a few minutes ago and …”

“I have listened to your message, Mma,” the minister interrupted her. “And you are right. I was not thinking when I said ‘in the meantime.’ I shall re-record the message and say, ‘When I hear your message, I shall put you in my prayers.’ That is what I shall say.”

Mma Makutsi felt a flush of shame. “I did not mean to be rude,” she said hurriedly.

“I know that,” said the minister. “And you did not sound at all rude. You were very polite about it.”

A short silence ensued before the minister continued. “But you said that you had something to say to me. May I ask what that was?”

Mma Makutsi told him of her business with him, and when she had finished, he said, “What exactly are you asking of me, Mma? Are you asking me to tell you whether any such person, any businessman from Zambia, has spoken to me? Is that what you are asking?”

“Yes,” said Mma Makutsi. “You will know many of your countrymen down here. They come to ask you for help. I thought that perhaps this man had done that too.”

The minister was silent. At the other end of the line, sitting at her desk in the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency, Mma Makutsi watched a small white gecko climb expertly and effortlessly up a wall. The creature’s head moved from side to side as it made its journey, watchful for predators and prey.