He had not been listening to what she had been saying—or had heard only the word solution. In his calling as a mechanic the solution to a mechanical problem was often something as simple as a change of oil, and so he made that point now. “A change of oil,” he said. “Yes, Mma, that is the solution. I’ve always said that.”

Mma Ramotswe smiled. It was not often that a misheard or ignored question elicited a response that was so perfectly apt. A change of oil…yes, that was what we all needed from time to time, whether we were an engine or a person. And there were other similarities to be explored. Engines had to be handled gently, as did people. Forward gears were better than reverse gears—for people as well as engines. There were so many analogies that could be made. One day, perhaps, she would write them down and add them, as an appendix of sorts, to her cherished copy of Clovis Andersen’s The Principles of Private Detection—a source of wisdom to which, surely, more wisdom could profitably be added.

At the Sun Hotel a photographer awaited the arriving guests. All Gaborone was there—or at least all of Gaborone that thought it merited the description “All Gaborone.” There was the Mayor, and the Minister for Women’s Affairs, and the president, vice-president, and secretary of the Gaborone Chamber of Commerce. There was Mr. Spokes “Fast-Time” Pilani, the famous radio personality. There was the manager of the Mercedes-Benz dealership and the chairman of the Water Board. There was barely a figure of note in the city who had not made an effort to attend, and to look at his or her best for the occasion.

And there were the women who had made the longlist, including the runner-up, Violet Sephotho. Of the winner, Gloria Poeteng, there was no sign yet; her entrance would be made on stage and dramatically at the appropriate moment. “She will be looking very good,” said one of the waitresses to Mma Ramotswe. “There has been a lot of talk about her outfit.”

There was a reception before the main event, and then the guests filed into the ballroom and took their seats. Mma Ramotswe and Mma Makutsi sat as near to the front as they could, hoping to get a good view of proceedings.

“It will be a very great moment when the crown is given to Gloria,” whispered Mma Makutsi. “That Violet Sephotho will have difficulty smiling. She’ll try, but what is going on inside her will show.”

“You never know,” said Mma Ramotswe. “And let’s not revel too much in her defeat, Mma.”

Mma Makutsi was silent, but it was clear that she intended to revel.