There was silence. She would have loved him to reply. She would have loved to hear his voice again saying, Precious, my Precious, I know, I know. And behind that voice she would perhaps hear the lowing of those cattle that he always said lived in heaven and were there to greet us when it was time for us to go. But she heard none of this, and so, with a sigh at the inevitability of duty, she closed the office and set off down the Lobatse Road towards the farm that was the cause of the trouble.

Further reflection on the way led her to rule out any deception. She would not pretend to be lost, but would tell the truth – that she was working for the lawyers and had come to check that everything was in order. That was quite true, even if it was one of those truths that left something unsaid. But you did not have to say everything all the time, especially if you were a detective and you were interested in trapping those who might be less attached to the truth than you were.

The Lobatse Road was straight as an arrow here – an undulating strip of black tar that shimmered in the noon heat. Mma Sheba had told her where to turn, and the landmark appeared on cue. Now she was on a rough farm track that meandered off into scrub bush. Behind the level of the trees, squat hills that had seemed blue from a distance now took on the grey-green hue of acacia. The track had been scraped into the red earth carelessly, without regard to the land it crossed, and was interrupted here and there by obstacles it had not bothered to avoid – an outcrop of rock, a cluster of termite mounds, the beginnings of a donga – one of those deep eroded ditches that criss-crossed the land. The tiny white van had been through worse, and its suspension was in such a state that little by way of potholes or humps could discourage it further. Even so, Mma Ramotswe drove with caution; a broken axle or a shattered oil sump would no doubt bring renewed suggestions from Mr J. L. B. Matekoni that the time had arrived to get a new van. It would also mean a long walk back to the Lobatse Road in the full heat of day, hard enough for anyone but particularly demanding for those of traditional build.