“You must not say things like that,” Mma Ramotswe chided her. “You are upset, Mma, I can tell that, but it is very dangerous to talk about poisoning people. It is very dangerous, Mma. Do you hear me?” It was a serious point; Mma Makutsi may have been upset, but in a country where, for all its good points, there lingered in the minds of some a belief in witchcraft and poisoning, it was explosive talk. And Mma Makutsi realised this, and reminded herself that she was not some superstitious and uneducated person from the back of beyond, but an assistant detective in the modern city of Gaborone and a graduate, moreover, of the Botswana Secretarial College (with ninety-seven per cent).

“Maybe she won’t poison him,” Mma Makutsi sniffed. “But why did she say, when I telephoned her, that I could not speak to him? She said he is resting, and that she would see if he could phone me later.”

Mma Ramotswe crossed the room to the shelf where the kettle was kept. Tea was often the solution in fraught moments, and she was sure that Mma Makutsi would think more reasonably once tea had been served.

“Perhaps she is merely telling the truth. After you have come out of hospital it is always a good idea to rest. You do not go and play football the moment you come out of hospital …” She tailed off. The words had come out without her thinking much about them; football was a very unfortunate choice, in the circumstances. She corrected herself. “I mean, you do not run around …” It was another tactless choice of words.

Mma Ramotswe glanced over her shoulder as she put tea into the pot. Mma Makutsi was staring at her.

“What is this about football, Mma Ramotswe? Phuti has never played football. And how can you run around when you have only one foot, Mma?”

“This is good tea,” said Mma Ramotswe, in an attempt to divert attention from football, and feet, and running. “You will enjoy it, I think. Five Roses tea. It is very good.”

“I have always used that tea,” said Mma Makutsi stiffly. “I do not think this will be any different. But why talk about running around, Mma? He will not be running.”

“It was just a way of saying that after you come out of hospital you have to take things easily. Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni knows a man who went into hospital and then came out and immediately went on a charity walk for the Lions Club, and now he is late.”

“He became late on the walk?”

Mma Ramotswe nodded. “They said to him that he should not go, that he was still weak, but he would not listen. He was struck by lightning.”

“And that is how he became late?”