Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni looked up at the ceiling. He had expected to see Mr. Botumile meeting a woman, and when he had sat down next to Charlie Gotso he thought that perhaps the woman would arrive a bit later; that they both knew Mr. Gotso. But then, even when it became apparent that no woman would be joining them, he found himself engrossed in the encounter that was taking place at the neighbouring table. This was more interesting than mere adultery; this was the edge of something much more important than that. He imagined now that he would be able to reveal to Mma Botumile that her husband was up to something far worse than that which she had imagined; he was consorting with no less a person than Charlie Gotso, the least salubrious of Gaborone’s businessmen, a man who used intimidation and fear as instruments of persuasion; a bad man, in fact, to put it simply. And Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni had no reluctance to use unadorned, direct language, whether about cars, or people. Just as there were some bad cars—cars that were consistently slow to start or that invariably had inexplicable, incorrigible rattles—so too there were bad people. Fortunately there were not too many of these in Botswana, but there were some, and Mr. Charlie Gotso was certainly one of them.

“There was no sign of that woman,” he conceded. “Maybe it was not his evening for seeing her. There will be time enough to find her.”

“I see,” said Mma Ramotswe. “All right. But what did they talk about anyway?”

“Mining,” said Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni. “Mr Botumile said something about bad results. He said that the cores had come in and that the results were not good.”

Mma Ramotswe shrugged. “Prospecting,” she said. “People do that all the time.”

“Then he said: the share price will come down in two weeks, in Johannesburg. And Mr. Gotso asked him if he was sure about that. And he replied yes he was.”

“And then?” prompted Mma Ramotswe.

“Then Mr. Gotso said that he was very pleased.”

Mma Ramotswe was puzzled. “Pleased? Why would he be pleased about bad news?”

Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni thought for a moment. “Perhaps it’s because he is such an unpleasant man,” he said. “Perhaps he likes to hear of the misfortune of others. There are people like that.”

Yes, thought Mma Ramotswe. There were such people, but she did not think that Charlie Gotso was like that. He was the sort of person who would be unmoved by the misfortune of others; completely uninterested. All that he would be pleased about would be those things that were in his interests, that made him richer, and this raised a very difficult question: Why should the failure of prospectors to find minerals be good news for a bad man?