‘That would have been worth a lot,’ said Mma Ramotswe. ‘And then there would have been the cattle. You must not forget the cattle.’ It was her father’s cattle that had made it possible to open the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency. Behind so many things in Botswana there lay cattle – it had always been like that.

‘The cattle were very valuable,’ said Mma Sheba. ‘They went with the farm. The will said: “the farm and all its stock and equipment”.’

Mma Ramotswe thought she knew who got those. ‘The nephew?’

Mma Sheba nodded. Behind her, seated at her desk, Mma Makutsi was silent.

‘But…’ Mma Sheba looked down at her hands.

‘Yes, Mma?’

‘But I’m not sure that the right person will get them.’

They waited.

‘You haven’t found the nephew?’ asked Mma Ramotswe.

‘I fear that is true, Mma,’ said Mma Sheba. ‘You see, what has happened is that a young man has stepped forward. He has come into my office and has claimed to be the nephew. He has shown me his birth certificate and his passport too. They both say he is Liso Molapo.’

Mma Ramotswe drew in her breath. ‘But he isn’t?’

Mma Sheba spread her hands in a gesture of uncertainty. ‘How can I tell?’

Mma Makutsi could not contain herself. ‘Surely the sister – Rra Edgar’s sister – would know him? She’s his aunt, after all. An aunt knows her nephew, I think.’

Mma Sheba turned round to address Mma Makutsi. ‘Yes, an aunt should know her own nephew. And this aunt has said that this young man is who he is. The boy’s father, of course, is late and I have been unable to track down the Swazi woman who is the mother of this boy. I have tried, but she seems to have left the country some years ago. The boy himself says that his mother went off when he was fourteen and that he had been looked after by a friend of his late father’s. So there is no family for me to speak to – apart from his aunt, Rra Edgar’s sister.’

Mma Ramotswe considered this. She sketched a brief family tree out on a piece of paper in front of her: Rra Edgar, deceased brother, sister and nephew. It was not complicated. ‘If she says he is who he claims to be and if he has documents to prove it, then what is the problem, Mma?’

Mma Sheba turned back. ‘You want to know something, Mma Ramotswe? I have a nose for a lie. I’ve always had it. I think that this young man is lying. I think he is not who he claims to be.’ She paused. ‘I feel it in my bones, Mma.’

‘Bones never lie,’ said Mma Makutsi.

‘No,’ said Mma Sheba. ‘Mine never have. Why would they start now?’