“It must be,” said Mma Ramotswe. “But I think that you people have good memories. It is your job that helps you to remember. You see things and you remember them.”

Mighty laughed. “Sometimes, Mma, sometimes. Not always.”

“Well, Mma Grant remembered you,” said Mma Ramotswe. “You were very kind to her.”

Tebogo looked down modestly. “It is our job, Mma. We are kind to people because it is our job. Not just me—everybody here.”

For a few moments, Mma Ramotswe was silent as she weighed his remark. No, it was not true. They were professional in their dealings with their guests, and that meant they were courteous and attentive, but kindness was another matter—it required that there be something in the heart. She looked at Mighty; he had it too, she suspected—that quality of kindness that visitors to the country so often remarked upon.

“I think that you were kind to her, Rra,” she said quietly. “But I have not come to talk about that. I have come to tell you what has happened to that lady. She is late, I’m afraid to say.”

She watched. Again, she was sure that she was right: he was upset.

“I am very sorry to hear that, Mma. I’m sure that she was a nice lady.”

She knew that he meant it. If there was anything that she had learned in her years as a private detective, it was the ability to tell when somebody meant what they said.

“I believe she was, Rra,” she said. “And a generous one too.”

Mma Makutsi had been quiet until now, but this was her opportunity. “Generous to you,” she said.

Tebogo looked inquiringly at Mma Makutsi. “Oh?”

“Yes,” said Mma Ramotswe. “She spoke to her lawyer before she died. Over in America. She spoke to him, and told him that she wanted to give you some money. And now that is why we are here. We have come to find you and tell you about this money.”

For a moment Tebogo simply stared at her. Then he shook his head. “I cannot believe this, Mma. It cannot be true.”

“It is,” said Mma Ramotswe. “Mma Grant has left you three thousand dollars. That is …”

“Almost twenty thousand pula,” interjected Mighty.

Tebogo shook his head again. Then he smiled. “That is … It is …”

“It is very good luck,” said Mighty.

“I am very grateful,” said Tebogo. He let out a low whistle. “Twenty thousand pula!”

“Be careful that you do not spend it all at once,” said Mma Makutsi.