“Violet Sephotho!” exclaimed Charlie. “The one we chased in the supermarket. The one with the bottom like that.” He made an expansive gesture.

Mma Ramotswe shook her head. “You should not talk like that, Charlie. But yes, she is a very glamorous lady.”

“Oh, is that what husband-stealers are called these days?” interjected Mma Makutsi. “That is a very good name for such a lady, I think.”

Mma Ramotswe allowed this to pass. “Yes, she is a glamorous lady, Charlie. And all I want you to do is to pretend that you are very interested in buying a bed. Say that you have just moved here from Francistown. Say that you had a very good job there with one of the mining companies, and now you are going to be based in Gaborone and need a new bed. Tell her that you would like a double bed—that you are not married or anything like that, but that you would like a good-sized bed. That is all you have to say.”

Charlie clapped his hands together enthusiastically. “I am a very good actor, Mma. This will be no problem.”

“I'm sure you're a good actor, Charlie. I'm sure you'll do it very well. But one thing: Could you pretend that you're not too sure about the bed she tries to sell you? Say that you will have to think about it and that you may need to look at beds in some other shops. Pretend to be one of those customers who always need persuading.”

“And then?”

“And then, after you have said all this, and she has said all that she says, you can say that you have to go, but that you will be back later. Don't sign anything, whatever you do.”

“I never sign things, Mma,” said Charlie. “If you give people your name, then they get you. I have always known that. Watch out is my motto!”

Mma Makutsi thought this very amusing. “Good one, Charlie. Watch out, here comes Charlie. Good motto, Charlie.”

Mma Ramotswe allowed herself a small smile at this, as did Charlie. This banter between Mma Makutsi and Charlie was not all that serious, she thought. In fact, she believed that underneath it all they probably liked each other, difficult though it was at times to see this affection in action. People have strange dealings with one another, Mma Ramotswe felt: those who appear on the surface to be friends may in reality be enemies—but how could you tell? And did it happen the other way round? Take Mr. Molofololo: he had many enemies, it seemed, or at least many people who appeared not to like him for some reason or other. But how many of these enemies were really friends? It was easy to imagine why an enemy might wish to appear a friend, but why, she wondered, would a friend claim to be an enemy?

Mma Makutsi now raised an objection. “One thing about this plan, Mma: What if she recognises Charlie from that time in the supermarket?”