“But do they not have a photograph of him on the cover of his book?” asked Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni. “I thought that they put photos of authors on books. So that you know what you’re going to get.”

Mma Ramotswe shook her head. “There is no photograph of Mr. Andersen. He is a very modest man. As you would be too, Rra, if you wrote a book. The Principles of Car Maintenance, for example. You would have a photograph of a car on it, not of you.”

“I have not yet written a book,” mused Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni. “I have thought of it, but I have not started one yet.”

Mma Ramotswe was eager to continue with her story, but could not let this remark go uncommented upon. “This book of yours, Rra: Would it be about car maintenance, or is it something different?”

Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni looked bashful. “It will be something different, I think.”

She looked at him expectantly. “Well, Rra?”

He hesitated, as if deciding whether to trust her with a secret. “I thought of writing something for ladies.”

Mma Ramotswe’s eyebrows shot up. “For ladies? That is very interesting, Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni! What exactly will this book for ladies be?”

“It will be on how to fix things in the house,” he said. “There are many things that a lady can fix herself. Washing-machine repairs, for example, are not all that difficult. Then there are things that can go wrong with cars. There is no reason why ladies should not change tyres, or do simple things like that. You do not need a man to do those things.” He paused. “That will be my book, Mma, if I ever write it, which I do not think I shall. I thought I might call it Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni’s Book of Hints for Ladies.”

Mma Ramotswe clapped her hands together. “It will be a first-class book, Rra! They will sell it at that bookshop at Riverwalk. It will be in the window and take up all the space. Everybody will be buying it.”

“I must write it first,” said Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni. “And the problem is that I do not know how to do that. I am just a mechanic, Mma Ramotswe—as you well know. I am not a person who can write a book. You need a BA for that, and I do not have a BA.”

They returned to the subject of Clovis Andersen.

“What did he want?” asked Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni.

“He did not want anything,” said Mma Ramotswe. “He was passing by and he thought he would call in and say hello. It was just because he is a detective too. It is called a professional courtesy call, I think.”