“Yes, they will be.”

“And there will be a lot of crying.”

The secretary lowered her gaze. “We shall all cry, Mma. All of us.”

Mma Ramotswe waited a moment or two. Clovis Andersen, who felt as if he were an intruder into a private family moment, studied his hands.

“Then I take it that you would be very pleased to have her dismissal set aside?”

The secretary’s reply was vehement. “I would do anything to make that happen, Mma.”

“Anything?” probed Mma Ramotswe.

“Yes, anything at all.”

Mma Ramotswe glanced at Clovis Andersen before she next spoke. “Then please show us the tender documents that the board received for the new hall,” she said.

The secretary hesitated. “They are confidential,” she said.

“Then we can do nothing for Mma Potokwane.”

“However, if it is in the interests of the children,” went on the secretary, “then I shall overlook the confidentiality issue.”

She rose from her chair and unlocked one of the filing cabinets. Thereafter it took a few minutes before she found what she was looking for: a brown manila file on which Hall had been inscribed in thick black lettering. She turned to face Mma Ramotswe.

“This has the quotes received from the builders,” she said. “And it also has the report that went back from the tender committee to the main board.”

Mma Ramotswe was intrigued. “The tender committee?”

The secretary explained. “That was the committee that decided who should get the job of building the hall.”

“And who was on that?”

“Only two people, I think,” came the reply. “Mr. Ditso Ditso—you know him, Mma?—and that lady from the Ministry, I am always forgetting her name. But she never went to the meetings, I believe. She is a very lazy woman—everybody knows that.”

“So the meetings of the tender committee just consisted of Mr. Ditso Ditso?”

“Yes. And he said something to me about it once. He joked that it was very pleasant being on a committee where nobody disagreed with you because there were no other members. He said he wished all committees were like that.”

Clovis Andersen now intervened. “I’ll bet he does!” he said.

The secretary handed the file to Mma Ramotswe, who put it on the table in front of her and began to look through the documents it contained. “Here,” she said, passing four stapled pages to Clovis Andersen. “Those are the estimates from the builders.”

Clovis Andersen looked at the papers. “They aren’t too far apart,” he said. “It means that the builders wanted this job. If you get one that’s much higher, then it usually means that the builder who put it in didn’t really want the job but would take it if his excessive price got it.”

“And here’s Mr. Ditso’s letter of recommendation to the board saying that the job should be awarded to …” She looked up. “Kalahari Forward Construction.”