“And I told him …” Charlie looked about him, as if for support. They were all staring at him intently. “I told him that we had arranged something. If he didn’t tell the truth in court, then …” He pointed to the cutting. “Then he would be seeing this lady.”

There was complete silence.

“And she was there in court,” Charlie continued. “So he decided to tell the truth after all. And who wouldn’t?”

SHE TOOK CHARLIE OUTSIDE.

“Come for a little walk with me, Charlie.”

“I don’t see what the fuss is about, Mma Ramotswe.”

“Just come with me, Charlie, so we can talk.”

He went reluctantly, dragging his heels in the sand like a surly schoolboy. Mma Ramotswe took his arm. She would not be cross with him; she knew that this never worked with Charlie. You had to try to reason with Charlie; you had to be gentle.

“You do know how serious it is?” she asked.

“What?”

“How serious it is to threaten a witness. Especially to threaten to have them killed.”

He said nothing.

“You could go to jail if the police found out. You know that, don’t you?”

Charlie defended himself. “He wasn’t a witness, Mma. He was the one who did it. I just told him to tell the truth.”

She increased the pressure on his arm. “You threatened him, Charlie. And you brought me into it. You made him think I was that lady, that …”

“Bella Dlamini,” he prompted. “It’s a good name, isn’t it, Mma Ramotswe?”

“Charlie, you have to take this seriously. You have done a very bad thing.”

“With a good result.”

She had to admit that this was the case. Truth, it seemed, had triumphed—by means of a lie.

“Yes,” she said carefully. “It may be a good result, but never forget, Charlie, that you should not try to get good results by doing bad things.”

“Why not?”

“Because …” She looked up at the sky. She was not sure how she could explain it to this young man, and then she decided that she could not. Not just yet.

“Because it’s not right, Charlie. Sometimes we have to see bad things happen because we can’t do another bad thing to stop them. Do you see that?”

“No,” he said. “I don’t.”

Mma Ramotswe sighed. “I’m very pleased that Fanwell is back with us, of course.”

“So am I. He is like a brother to me, Mma.”

“I know, Charlie.”

“And you have to help your brother, Mma.”

“I understand that, Charlie, but … but be careful what you do.”

Charlie looked at his watch. “We should get back to work, Mma.”

She nodded. “All right, Charlie, let’s get back to work.”

They retraced their steps, as friends now, or at least as those who have established an understanding, even if the understanding is about just what one of them understands and the other does not.

CHAPTER NINETEEN