“Sure,” said Clovis Andersen. “But who’s getting the money? Where’s it being spent? Remember what I said in the book. Follow the money. It always works, Mma Ramotswe.”

She looked at him. Of course he was right. And it had never occurred to her to ask herself this question, not once in the course of all the pondering and worrying of the last few days. And now this man who was so modest, who seemed reluctant to discuss The Principles of Private Detection unless pressed to do so, this nice man had gone right to the nub of the matter, and had done it effortlessly, as if he had hardly had to think about it at all.

She struggled to contain her excitement. “I think you are right, Rra. That is the very question we should be asking ourselves.”

Clovis Andersen made a gesture with his hand—a turning movement that suggested the reframing of the question. “Ask ourselves, or ask him?”

“You think we should speak to him, Rra?”

Clovis Andersen nodded. “Yes. Let’s go and talk to him about the building project. And while you’re talking to him, I’ll watch him.”

“You’ll watch?”

“Yes. Because in my experience, Mma Ramotswe, people give themselves away. Even if he doesn’t say anything, he’ll tell us.”

They drank their tea. Mma Ramotswe felt almost euphoric. As far as she was concerned, the investigation was now in the hands of one who must, on any view of it, be one of the most highly regarded private detectives in the world. And he was here, in Botswana, with her, working on a case in which they were, without the slightest shadow of doubt, on the right side. If the last few days had been difficult ones, that was now almost completely forgotten. She now felt optimistic that they would come up with something that might bring about a reversal of Mma Potokwane’s dismissal. And that had to happen, because if it did not, then there would be no justice left in the country—and that was a thought that Mma Ramotswe was not willing to entertain for anywhere, least of all for the place she loved so much, her Botswana.

IT DID NOT prove easy to track down Ditso Ditso, who was not listed under his own name in the telephone directory. It was Mma Makutsi who remembered the name of one of his companies and found a number for that. “It is here,” she said proudly, pointing to an entry in the directory. “DD Industries. That is what he calls himself. It is his initials, you see.”