TATI MONYENA was clearly proud of his office, which was scrupulously clean and which exuded the smell of polish. In the centre of the room stood a large desk on which rested a telephone, three stacked letter trays, and a small wooden sign, facing out, on which was inscribed Mr. T. Monyena. Against one wall stood two grey metal filing cabinets, considerably more modern than those in Mma Ramotswe’s office, and on another wall, directly behind Tati Monyena’s chair, was a large framed picture of His Excellency, the President of the Republic of Botswana.

Mma Ramotswe and Mr. Polopetsi sat in the straight-backed chairs in front of the desk. It was a tight fit for Mma Ramotswe, and the chair-arm on each side pushed uncomfortably into her traditional waistline. Mr. Polopetsi, though, barely filled his seat, and perched nervously on the edge of it, his hands clasped together on his lap.

“It is very good of you to come so quickly,” said Tati Monyena. “We are at your disposal.” He paused. He had made a magnanimous beginning, but he was not at all sure what he could do to help Mma Ramotswe. She would want to speak to people, he imagined, even though he had spoken to the ward nurses again and again, and had had several conversations with the doctors in question, in this very office; conversations in which the doctors sat where Mma Ramotswe was sitting and defensively insisted that they had no idea how these patients had died.

“I should like to speak to the nurses,” said Mma Ramotswe. “And I should like to see the ward too, if possible.”

Tati Monyena’s hand reached for the telephone. “I can arrange for both of those things, Mma. I shall show you the ward, and then we will bring the nurses back here so you can talk to them in this office. There are three of them who were there at the time.”

Mma Ramotswe frowned. She did not wish to be rude, but it would not be a good idea to interview the nurses in front of Tati Monyena. “It might be better for me to see them by themselves,” she said. “Just Mr. Polopetsi here and myself. That’s not to suggest…”

Tati Monyena raised a hand to stop her. “Of course, Mma! Of course. How tactless of me! You can speak to them in private. But I don’t think they will say anything. When things go wrong, people become very careful. They forget what they have seen. They saw nothing. Nothing happened. It is always the same thing.”

“That is human nature,” interjected Mr. Polopetsi. He had been silent until then, and they both looked at him intently.

“Of course it is,” said Tati Monyena. “It is human nature to protect ourselves. We are no different from animals in that respect.”

“Except that they can’t tell lies,” said Mr. Polopetsi.