Mma Ramotswe had always insisted that she see the client first, even if the matter was subsequently to be delegated to Mma Makutsi. But things had to change, and perhaps this was the time to do it. Mma Makutsi could be made an associate detective and given the chance to deal with clients herself, right from the beginning of a case. All that would be required would be that the client’s chair be turned round to face Mma Makutsi’s desk rather than hers.

“Unless you, as…as associate detective were to interview the client yourself and look after the whole matter.” Mma Ramotswe paused. The afternoon sun was slanting in through the window and had fallen on Mma Makutsi’s head, glinting off her spectacles.

“Of course,” said Mma Makutsi quietly. Associate detective. Whole matter. Herself. “Of course,” she repeated. “That would be possible. Tomorrow morning? Of course, Mma. You leave it to me.”

THE SMALL WOMAN sitting in the re-oriented client’s chair looked at Mma Makutsi. “Mma?”

“Makutsi. I am Grace Makutsi.”

“I had heard that there was a woman called Mma Ramotswe. People have spoken of her. I heard very good things.”

“There is a woman of that name,” said Mma Makutsi. “She is my colleague.” She faltered briefly at the word colleague. Of course Mma Ramotswe was her colleague; she was also her employer, but there was nothing to say that an employer could not also be a colleague. She went on, “We work very closely together. As associates. So that is why you are seeing me. She is out on another case.”

The small woman hesitated for a moment, but then appeared to accept that situation. She leaned forward in her chair, and Mma Makutsi noticed how her expression seemed to be a pleading one, the expression of one who wanted something very badly. “My name, Mma, is Mma Magama, but nobody calls me that very much. They call me Teenie.”

“That is because…” Mma Makutsi stopped herself.

“That is because I have always been called that,” said Teenie. “Teenie is a good name for a small person, you see, Mma.”

“You are not so small, Mma,” said Mma Makutsi. But you are, she thought; you’re terribly small.

“I have seen some smaller people,” said Teenie appreciatively.

“Where did you see them?” asked Mma Makutsi. She had not intended to ask the question, but it slipped out.

Teenie pointed vaguely out of the window, but said nothing.

“Anyway, Mma,” Mma Makutsi went on. “Perhaps you will tell me why you have come to see us.”

Mma Makutsi watched Teenie’s eyes as she spoke. The pleading look that accompanied each sentence was disconcerting.