“Clovis Andersen,” Mma Ramotswe began, “says that you should never rely entirely on an identification. I remember his exact words, Mma Makutsi. The human memory plays all sorts of tricks. You may think that you remember correctly, but you might not. Remember that people are very similar to one another—we all have arms and legs and noses, and these can look very, very alike. That’s what he says, Mma.”

Mma Makutsi listened in silence. She was not one to argue with Clovis Andersen, but in this case, even if Charlie’s identification were to be discounted, Violet Sephotho was such an obvious suspect. The only matter to be sorted out was motive, and that, when one started to think about it, was clear enough. Envy. The last time the paths of the two women had crossed, Violet had shown herself to be envious of Phuti. She disparaged him, of course, and made fun of his awkwardness and his speech impediment, but the fact remained: Phuti was well off. Violet would have loved to have married a rich man, but presumably had failed. For her to see Mma Makutsi, whom she despised, with a rich fiancé on her arm must have been more than she could bear. And the hostile references to Mma Ramotswe? A smokescreen intended to conceal the real target: Mma Makutsi, fiancée of the proprietor of the Double Comfort Furniture Shop—and of a very large herd of cattle.

Mma Makutsi was so sure that Violet was the author of the letters that it frustrated her that Mma Ramotswe should not grasp this point. But in this she was mistaken: Mma Ramotswe did, in fact, think that it was Violet; it was just that she was reluctant to say that it had been established that she was the culprit. This point was now explained to Mma Makutsi.

“I agree, you know,” said Mma Ramotswe. “It was probably Violet Sephotho. The glasses were nothing to do with the case. And the reason why I believe that Charlie really was correct is this: Charlie looks at women very carefully. He studies them—we have all seen that. And he said something very significant, Mma. He said that when he saw her pushing the trolley in the supermarket—he saw her from behind, remember—he was more convinced than ever. He said that…well, it’s a bit indelicate, Mma, but I have to say it. He said that it was the same bottom.”

Mma Ramotswe’s embarrassment appeased Mma Makutsi, who let out a whoop of laughter. “That boy! That is all he ever thinks of. But this time, he was right. Good for Charlie!”