Mma Ramotswe clapped her hands in pleasure. ‘That is wonderful, Mma! That is a very good name. Phuti told me you might do that.’

Mma Makutsi smiled demurely. ‘I am glad that you like it, Mma. It is a tribute to Clovis Andersen.’

‘Of course it is. Of course it is. And Rra Andersen will be very pleased when he hears it, I think. You must write to him. Send him a photograph and tell him that this baby has been given his name. People like that.’

‘I will do that, Mma.’

They reverted to the subject of Liso. ‘I was not sure of him at first, Mma,’ continued Mma Ramotswe, ‘but then I ended up liking him. You know how that can happen – you start off being wary of somebody and then you realise that your suspicions are wrong.’

Mma Makutsi had experienced that, but it was possible, she pointed out, that exactly the opposite might happen. ‘You may meet people who you think are all right and then you realise that they are not. That happens too, Mma.’

Mma Ramotswe moved on to describe the anxiety that Liso’s aunt had felt about leaving him alone with her. ‘And every time I asked him a question, she answered. It was as if she was worried that he would say something that would give him away.’

Mma Makutsi looked thoughtful. ‘Sometimes people are like that,’ she said. ‘They feel anxious about what their relatives will say. I have an aunt in Bobonong who replies for her husband all the time. Now he never opens his mouth at all when anybody speaks to him – he just looks at her and she tells that other person what he is thinking.’

‘Yes,’ said Mma Ramotswe. ‘That can happen. But there is something more, Mma.’

‘Yes?’

Mma Ramotswe lifted her teacup and tilted it to make sure that she got the last few drops. Mma Makutsi saw this; it was a signal that they had both used many times and was picked up immediately.

‘I shall get you more tea,’ she said. ‘Then you can tell me.’

Their cups refreshed, Mma Makutsi listened while Mma Ramotswe related what Gwithie had told her about Liso calling his aunt his mother. Mma Makutsi weighed this for some time before she gave her response.

‘There is something that Clovis Andersen says,’ she began. ‘He says that you should always ask who has an interest in something. Remember that, Mma? Remember how he said: find out who has a stake?’

She did remember.

‘So, Mma,’ continued Mma Makutsi, ‘you must ask yourself: who has a stake in all this?’

Mma Ramotswe thought it was obvious. ‘The aunt. The nephew.’ She paused as she tried to imagine who else had an interest in the outcome of the Molapo succession. Eventually she said, ‘And the lawyer too, I suppose.’ She had her suspicions about Mma Sheba, and perhaps it was now time to spell them out.