“But you have been most helpful,” said Mma Makutsi. And with that, the conversation came to an end, as did the case of the missing Zambian financier. The problem could now be passed on to somebody else, but passed on in a useful way, and with some positive information attached to it. Their quarry was now in Johannesburg, which was a very large place, of course, but there were not all that many big hotels there, and now those who were after this man would know precisely where to start looking.

They had enough information now to report back to the attorneys, and to do so with their heads held high. Their report would be well worth their fee, she thought; and from her point of view, she was eagerly awaiting the chance to tell Mma Ramotswe about what she had discovered. It was always satisfying to be able to make a positive report.

When she heard the truck come back, she got up from her desk and went outside. She had expected, of course, to see Mma Ramotswe’s van ignominiously tied to the truck with a tow-rope, and was dismayed when she saw only the truck and a disconsolate-looking Mma Ramotswe getting out of the passenger seat.

Mma Ramotswe told her what had happened, and Mma Makutsi let out a wail of sorrow, for a moment quite forgetting the good news which she had intended to welcome her back.

“Ow, Mma!” she cried. “Your van! They have stolen your van! Ow!”

Mr J.L.B. Matekoni stood back from the two women, looking miserable. He tried to calm them, saying, “We will find another van. There are many vans … ,” only to be hushed by Mma Makutsi, who felt that this was not the moment for sensible male advice.

Later, when she and Mma Ramotswe were sitting down together in their office for a quickly brewed cup of bush tea—which Mma Makutsi had now decided that she liked—it was Mma Ramotswe who set out to calm her assistant.

“I suppose that it had to go sometime,” she said. “Mr J.L.B. Matekoni has often said that cars and vans do not last forever. We have to face that. And he’s right, isn’t he?”

Mma Makutsi had to admit that this was so. But that did not make this monstrous misfortune any easier to bear. “You are being very calm about it. I would be very angry if this had happened to me.”

“Well,” said Mma Ramotswe, “I have felt that anger. I felt it when I saw that the van had gone. I felt it a bit in the truck on the way back. But what is the point of anger now, Mma? I don’t think that anger will help us.”

Mma Makutsi sighed. “You are right about anger,” she said. “There is no point in it.”

“So tell me what has been happening here,” said Mma Ramotswe.