“Yes.” It happened, and surprisingly often. The powerful electrical storms that built up in the rainy season discharged great bolts of lightning that ended the lives of unfortunates out in the open; in a landscape of low trees and wide spaces, a man might be the most tempting conductor.

Mma Makutsi frowned. “But I do not see what that has got to do with coming out of hospital. There are always people being struck by lightning. There was a man in Bobonong last year. He was getting his chickens in out of the rain and then he was late. Only his shoes were left.”

It was not a cheerful conversation, but it had at least distracted Mma Makutsi from the subject of Phuti. And over tea, they talked about other matters and other people, including Mrs. Grant.

“I have made a decision,” announced Mma Ramotswe. “We are going to Maun.”

Mma Makutsi was enthusiastic. “This will be a business trip?” she asked.

“It will, Mma,” said Mma Ramotswe. “We shall go up in my van and stay with cousins of Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni. They live just outside Maun. Then we can carry out our investigations.”

Mma Makutsi beamed with pleasure. Dabbing at her makeup with a small lace handkerchief, she sought to repair the damage that the tears had caused. “I have never been on a business trip,” she said. “This is very good news.”

It was the reaction that Mma Ramotswe had hoped for. It would do her assistant a great deal of good, she thought, to have her mind taken off Phuti’s woes. And during that time the aunt—difficult though she may be—could look after her nephew. That would help too, Mma Ramotswe felt; people were awkward for a reason, as often as not, and the reason for awkwardness here was probably that the aunt felt her role was threatened by Mma Makutsi. If she believed herself to be needed on this occasion, perhaps she might feel less insecure. Perhaps …

“Of course, all expenses will be paid,” Mma Ramotswe went on.