“But we have enjoyed it, Rra, and you have helped us so much. We’ve been honoured to have you. Mma Makutsi in particular. Your visit has been a very, very big thing for her. She comes from Bobonong, you see, and—”

“It’s not that,” Clovis Andersen interrupted. “It’s just that … well, I’m not who you think I am.”

She looked him with astonishment. “You’re not Clovis Andersen?”

“No, of course I’m Clovis Andersen. But Clovis Andersen is not the great detective you think he is. He’s a failed detective from Muncie, Indiana. He’s a man who has hardly any clients and never really solves any cases. He’s a nobody, Mma Ramotswe.”

She laughed. “But that is nonsense, Rra. You are the author of that great book, The Principles of Private Detection. That book is world famous. It’s very important.”

He shook his head—sadly. “No, Mma Ramotswe. The book’s not well known at all. I wrote it, yes, but I couldn’t even get it properly published. So I had it printed privately—just two hundred copies. Eighty of those are still in boxes in my garage. We sold about thirty copies, that’s all. I gave away the rest, but somehow one of those seems to have got into your hands. I have no idea how it happened, but it did. The book’s nothing, Mma. Nothing.”

She stood in front of him, the sun in her eyes now, preventing her from seeing him properly. She lifted a hand to shade her brow. She saw his face, which seemed to her to be racked with pain, with regret.

“Rra,” she said. “You mustn’t say that. You must never, never say that. Even if you had printed only ten copies—five copies, maybe—it would still be a very important book. It has helped us so much, Rra, and in turn we’ve been able to help so many people in our work. Every one of those people, Rra, is happier now because of what you did. Think of that—just think of that.”

He stared at her. “Do you think …,” he began.

“Of course I think that, Rra. I know it, and Mma Makutsi knows it too. And Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni. We all know it.”

He was at a loss for words. Mma Ramotswe could see that, and so she continued. “I could tell, Rra Andersen, that you were unhappy when you came here. I could tell that it was because you were thinking of your late wife.”

“I was. Yes.”