Charlie asked her whether she knew who he was, and she told him. “One of the most important people in the country,” said Mma Ramotswe. “Chairman of this and chairman of that. Mr. Chairman, really.”

Charlie whistled. “But he must have done something bad, Mma.”

Mma Ramotswe thought for a moment before she replied. “Who hasn’t, Charlie?”

“Not me, Mma.”

She looked at him and smiled. “Perhaps you should think again, Charlie.”

Charlie frowned. “I haven’t been really bad, Mma Ramotswe. Not really…”

Mma Ramotswe laughed. “Charlie, you’re one of these people who are easily forgiven.” She paused. “Not for everything, of course, but for most things.”

—

MMA MAKUTSI WAS WAITING at the office. She greeted Mma Ramotswe and Charlie with a grave look—one in which concern and outrage both played a part. Mma Ramotswe realised immediately that something serious had happened, and she listened in silence as the story of Violet’s nomination was related.

“I would not be surprised if you did not believe me,” concluded Mma Makutsi. “It’s truly unbelievable, Mma—truly unbelievable.”

Mma Ramotswe sighed. “Sometimes I realise that I’d believe anything,” she said. “There are so many things that happen that are, well, truly unbelievable.”

Charlie joined in. “Like the story of that woman who ate only soap,” he said. “She lived for two years on nothing but bars of soap. That’s all she ate—it was in the papers.”

The two women looked at him. “That’s different, Charlie,” said Mma Makutsi. “This is about somebody we actually know—not about some mystery lady in…wherever it was.”

“She lived in Indonesia,” said Charlie. “That’s what the papers said. They had a photograph of her. She was…” He hesitated. “She was traditionally built.”

“Well, that may be,” said Mma Ramotswe. “But this is a more serious matter, Charlie.”

Charlie frowned. “You know, Mma Makutsi, I think I may know how she survived. They have many coconuts in Indonesia, I think. You get coconut oil from coconuts, don’t you? And you can make soap from coconut oil. That must be how she survived.”

Mma Ramotswe turned to Mma Makutsi. “I’m very shocked by this, Mma. But I do not think she will win. People will not vote for her—they just won’t.”

“Are you sure, Mma?” asked Mma Makutsi.

“I am very sure, Mma. I do not believe that our fellow citizens would be so foolish—not in Botswana.”

Mma Makutsi was silent. She wanted to believe Mma Ramotswe, but it was difficult. Violet Sephotho was ruthless and would do anything to get her hands on a title such as Woman of the Year; she would do anything that was necessary.

“I hope you’re right, Mma Ramotswe,” she said, trying to convince herself that Mma Ramotswe, who was right in so many other respects, would be right in this.

CHAPTER EIGHT

THREE LIARS ALL GETTING IN TOUCH