Mma Ramotswe whistled in admiration. “You are quite the detective, Rra! A car detective, perhaps.”

Fanwell’s face broke into a broad smile. “Thank you, Mma. I can tell that it’s a rental car because…well, because the rental agreement is lying on the passenger seat.”

Mma Ramotswe laughed. “All the best clues are very obvious,” she said. “That’s what Clovis Andersen says.”

“Your book?” asked Fanwell.

“Yes. The Principles of Private Detection.”

Fanwell nodded in recognition. “That book says everything, doesn’t it?” He paused. “It’s a pity that we mechanics don’t have something like that. The Principles of Cars. That would be a good book, that one, Mma.”

She smiled. “The Principles of Cars, by Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni. That would be a very good book, I think. ‘Chapter one: Listen to what the car is trying to tell you.’ ”

Fanwell clapped his hands together in delight. “Oh, that is very funny, Mma. The boss is always saying that to us. It’s one of the first things he said to me when I started my apprenticeship. I don’t think I understood then.”

“But you do now?”

“Oh, I do understand now, Mma. It is very true. A car will tell you if it is suffering. And it will often make it very clear where the problem is.”

Mma Ramotswe nodded. “And chapter two of Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni’s book—what would that be?”

Fanwell thought for a moment. “Chapter two would be: ‘What to do next.’ I think that would be a good title for it.”

“Well, maybe we should suggest it to him, but now I must go inside and meet this new client.”

She straightened her dress, which had become crumpled in the van. There were dog hairs that showed against the dark red of the material, and she began to brush these off before she went into the office. She thought of the dog, and its vain attempt to pursue them after they had dropped it off. Perhaps it had no home after all and was now wandering the streets of Old Naledi, sniffing around for some scraps of food, for some sign of the human interest or affection it yearned for but that was not forthcoming.

As she brushed off the last of the hairs, from inside the office she could hear Mma Makutsi’s voice and then, less distinctly, the voice of the client. She stopped; she was standing just outside the door, which was slightly ajar. The voices inside were clear now, and she could hear exactly what was being said. She put her hand on the door handle, and then took it off again. She had not intended to eavesdrop, but she could make out exactly what was going on inside, and this made her hesitate.