THAT EVENING, Clovis Andersen was invited for dinner with Mma Makutsi and Phuti Radiphuti. Mma Makutsi left the office early to complete the preparations. She could barely believe that she would be actually entertaining, at her own table, the author of The Principles of Private Detection; such a thing was almost inconceivable, and yet it was happening. Phuti, too, was aware of the significance of the evening, and had bought a new shirt and tie for the occasion.

“You don’t have to be too formal,” said Mma Makutsi as they prepared for the arrival of their guest. “He’s very natural—just like an ordinary person. You’d never know he had written an important book like that. You’d never know that he was world famous.”

Phuti struggled with his new tie. “There are very few world-famous people in Botswana,” he said. “There is President Khama and the two former presidents. They are world famous. But who else is there? Can you think of anybody, Grace?”

“I cannot,” she said. “So that makes four world-famous people altogether—and one of them, Phuti, is going to be in our place tonight.”

The thought made him fumble more. “You’ll have to help me with my tie, Grace. I get very nervous when I think of a world-famous person coming to our house.”

She helped him with the knot; she held his hand as she did so; his hand warm against hers, loving flesh on loving flesh.

“I am so proud of you, Grace,” he said. “I am so proud.”

“And I am very proud of you, Phuti.”

There was nothing more to be said, but a great deal to be done, in the kitchen at least, where one of Mma Makutsi’s tried-and-tested stews was gently simmering on the stove. She had purchased the best cut of meat available—of fine Botswana beef—and the largest, most succulent vegetables. It would be a meal that Clovis Andersen remembered; or that was what she hoped.