Her thoughts were interrupted by a nudge from Mma Makutsi.

“He's coming, Mma,” she hissed. “Look.”

Charlie walked jauntily out of the front door of the shop and made directly for the van. There was no room for him in the cab- he had travelled in the open section at the back-but they needed to talk to him now and so they both got out to greet him and led him to a shady place under the acacia.

“Well?” asked Mma Ramotswe.

Charlie rolled his eyes heavenwards. “She's quite a lady, that one! One, two, three!”

“Never mind all that, Charlie,” said Mma Makutsi impatiently. “What happened?”

“Give him time, Mma,” said Mma Ramotswe. “Tell us, Charlie, but take your time about it. Try to remember everything, please.”

Charlie enjoyed being the centre of attraction. “Well now,” he began. “I went into the store. That's quite a store, Mma Ramotswe! No wonder Mma Makutsi is happy to be engaged to that Phuti! Big store, Mma. Big store.”

Mma Ramotswe coaxed him on. “Yes, yes, Charlie. But what about the bed?”

Charlie smiled. “I found that lady you were talking about- that Violet lady. My, my! Pretty lady that one. Pretty lady! Anyway she comes up to me-like this, this is how she walks, see-and she says, You're looking for a bed, Rra? Yes? This is the right place. You've come to the best place in Botswana for beds. And so on.”

“And then?”

“And then she says, This bed here, Rra, is a very good bed for you, I think. Try it. She said that I should lie down on the bed and see whether it was comfortable. So I did that. And while I was lying down, she comes up beside me and says, You look very handsome there, Rra, lying on that bed-very handsome. So I sit up and she says, What do you think of that bed, Rra-isn't it the most comfortable bed you've ever tried? And then she says, I'm sure a handsome young man like you, Rra, has slept in many beds! And she laughed.”

Mma Ramotswe and Mma Makutsi exchanged disapproving glances.

“And then, Charlie?” pressed Mma Ramotswe. “And then what happened?”

“Then I got up and poked at the mattress with my finger and felt the wooden headboard. Very smooth. And I said, Well, I'm not too sure, really, about this bed. I will need to look at beds in other shops. It's a big purchase, you know. And then…” He paused, adding extra dramatic effect to what he was about to say. “And then, Violet came up and whispered to me, If you buy this bed, Rra, then one day soon Ill come along and help you try it out. That is what she said! Some lady, Mma Ramotswe! Ow! One, two, three!”

Mma Ramotswe's eyes opened wide. “I knew it!” she exclaimed. “I knew it, Mma Makutsi! That is how Violet Sephotho manages to sell so many beds.”

Mma Makutsi shook her head. “It is so shameful,” she said. “It is so shameful that this has been happening under Phuti's nose and he did not know what she has been saying to the customers.”

Charlie raised a finger. “Maybe he does, Mma.”

Mma Makutsi frowned. “What do you mean, Charlie?”

Charlie looked awkward. “I might have told him myself, Mma. I didn't mean to, but… Well, you see, what happened was this. After I had told her that I was going to think about it, I started to leave. But I saw a man looking at one of the beds as if he was inspecting it. As I walked past him I whispered, You should buy one of these beds, Rra! You get a lot of extras! I was just trying to be friendly-one man talking to another, you know. Anyway, he stood up, this man and he turned round, and I saw it was your Phuti Radiphuti, Mma Makutsi. Yes! And he said, What are you talking about? So I told him and he started to shake-like this, Mma-and he said, She is a very wicked lady and he walked off towards her and I came out, Mma. That is all.”

Mma Ramotswe looked at Mma Makutsi. “I do not think that we need to do anything more, Mma,” she said. “Phuti now knows about the…”

“Bad woman in his bed,” supplied Mma Makutsi, adding, quickly, “department.”

OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS the staff of the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency-that is, Mma Ramotswe and Mma Makutsi, with some assistance from Mr. Polopetsi-were more than usually busy. The atmosphere in the office, though, was not as strained as it sometimes was during busy periods; in fact, it was rather light-hearted, not dissimilar to the mood that prevailed in the weeks before Christmas, when everybody was looking forward to parties and celebrations. Christmas was, of course, still some time away; what led to the lightness of mood now was the evident happiness of Mma Makutsi. The tensions that had arisen on the appointment of Violet had disappeared the very afternoon of Mma Ramotswe's exposure of the real reason for her sales success. Phuti Radiphuti, an upright man, had been profoundly shocked to hear of her sales technique, and had dismissed Violet immediately. The enraged former manager of the bed department had stormed out, meeting Mma Ramotswe and the others, still standing beside the van in the car park.

“It is you, Mma Ramotswe, who has done this thing to me,” she hissed. “I shall not forget it.” And then, seeing Mma Makutsi waiting in the van, she had shaken a finger at her erstwhile classmate and shouted abuse in her direction. “And you, Grace Makutsi! Don't you think that I don't know that you've been involved in this. Well, if I were you, I'd hang on to your precious Phuti Radiphuti very tight. He really likes me, you know. He couldn't keep his hands off me, you know. And he an engaged man!”

“Don't believe her,” called out Mma Ramotswe as she approached the van. “Phuti would never.”

“Oh yes he would,” yelled Violet. “And he did.”

Mma Ramotswe was now at the van and she climbed into the cab, emphasising to Mma Makutsi the meretricious nature of everything that Violet said. “Do not believe that woman,” she said. “She is jealous of you. And Phuti is a good, upright man. He is still your fiancé-that is what Violet cannot stand.”

“I trust Phuti,” said Mma Makutsi. “He would never go near a woman like her. And I never thought he would.”

This, thought Mma Ramotswe, was not strictly true-Mma Makutsi had been convinced that Violet presented a very real danger-but she did not argue. The important thing was that Mma Makutsi's mood was back to normal and that they would be able to get on with their work on the Molofololo case in reasonably good spirits. Not that Mma Ramotswe dared hope that they were getting anywhere with that inquiry-indeed, it was remarkable how similar were the responses of all the other players they had spoken to that week.

Even Rops Thobega, who was interviewed by Mma Ramotswe and Mma Makutsi together, had much the same view as Big Man Tafa and the others about the interference of Mr. Molofololo. “He means well,” said Rops, “but I wish he would stop meaning quite so well. He's always changing things, you know. Do things this way-no, do them this way. All the time. And then six months ago he went and changed all our kit-shorts, strips, socks, boots, the lot. He had some new sponsor who got him all this kit and he made us use it. It's never-ending. Change, change, change. Nag, nag, nag. And he never listens to us. Never.”

She had wondered about Big Man, and about one or two of the others, but had decided, in the end, that there really was nobody at whom the finger could be pointed. Nor a nose either.

At the end of the week, Mma Ramotswe began to draft the report that she planned to submit to Mr. Molofololo the following Monday. She dictated it to Mma Makutsi, sitting in their office, in the heat of mid-morning, watching the flies on the ceiling as she spoke.

“My assistant and I have jointly spoken to every member of the team. We have found no notable instances of disloyalty. Every member appears to be fond of the Kalahari Swoopers, and we found no evidence that any one of them would willingly do anything to ensure that opposing teams won. At the same time we found that there was…”