Finishing his tea, Charlie put his mug down on the filing cabinet. “This lawyer—who is also going to be Fanwell’s lawyer—had got his clients mixed up. So my friend had to whisper to him that he was not the person he thought he was, but another person. And the lawyer got all flustered and began to mumble all sorts of things. So the magistrate told him to sit down and drink a glass of water.”

Charlie paused.

“Go on,” said Mma Ramotswe faintly.

“Then he stood up again and asked some questions. My friend said they were stupid questions, and the magistrate eventually said to him that he was to shut up.”

“That cannot be true,” Mma Makutsi interjected. “Magistrates don’t tell people to shut up. It is not how they talk.”

“You weren’t there, Mma,” snorted Charlie.

“Nor were you,” countered Mma Makutsi.

“My friend was. And he told me everything that happened. He said that that was why he got three weeks in prison. It was all that lawyer’s fault.”

Mma Makutsi was not prepared to let this pass. “Excuse me, did the lawyer hit the person? Did I get something wrong? Maybe the lawyer should have gone to prison for hitting somebody too hard.”

Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni looked at his watch. “We should get back to work,” he said to Charlie. “There are cars out there needing attention. They won’t get fixed if we stay in here talking to the ladies.”

“You’re right, Boss,” said Charlie. “Particularly talking to one lady …” He glanced at Mma Makutsi, who smiled sweetly in response.

Mma Ramotswe sighed. “All right,” she said, “but this business with the lawyer, Charlie, I don’t think you should say anything to Fanwell about that. I don’t think it will help him to know. And just because the lawyer did not do a very good job with that friend of yours doesn’t necessarily mean that he will not do a good job for Fanwell.”

“No,” said Mma Makutsi. “So don’t tell Fanwell about this, Charlie. I know how you talk. Just don’t mention it to him. It’s much better that he doesn’t know.”

The door that linked the office of the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency to the courtyard of Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors had been slightly ajar during the tea-break. Now it was suddenly pushed fully open, to reveal Fanwell standing on the step, holding in his left hand the car part that he had been sent to collect from the depot.

“Better for me not to know what?” he asked.

THERE ARE AWKWARD moments from which one can retreat, and awkward moments from which there is no escape. This was one of the latter, as Mma Makutsi explained to Phuti Radiphuti when she met him that lunch time in his office at the Double Comfort Furniture Store.