The No 1 Ladies Detective Agency by Alexander McCall Smith

Author:Alexander McCall Smith [Smith, Alexander McCall]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, Women private investigators, General, Women Sleuths, No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency (Imaginary organization), Ramotswe; Precious (Fictitious character), Women private investigators - Botswana, Mystery fiction, Botswana, Detective and mystery stories; English, Women detectives, Today's Book Club selection, Africa, Detectives, Detective and mystery stories
ISBN: 9781400096886
Publisher: Random House of Canada
Published: 2005-07-26T03:00:00+00:00

"I'm worried that my husband has done a dreadful thing," said Mma Pekwane eventually. "I feel very ashamed for him."

Mma Ramotswe nodded her head gently. Masculine bad behaviour.

"Men do terrible things," she said. "All wives are worried about their husbands. You are not alone."

Mma Pekwane sighed. "But my husband has done a terrible thing," she said. "A very terrible thing."

Mma Ramotswe stiffened. If Rra Pekwane had killed somebody she would have to make it quite clear that the police should be called in. She would never dream of helping anybody conceal a murderer.

"What is this terrible thing?" she asked. Mma Pekwane lowered her voice. "He has a stolen car." Mma Ramotswe was relieved. Car theft was rife, almost unremarkable, and there must be many women driving around the town in their husbands' stolen cars. Mma Ramotswe could never imagine herself doing that, of course, and nor, it seemed, could Mma Pekwane.

"Did he tell you it's stolen?" she asked. "Are you sure of it?" Mma Pekwane shook her head. "He said a man gave it to him. He said that this man had two Mercedes-Benzes and only needed one."

Mma Ramotswe laughed. "Do men really think they can fool us that easily?" she said. "Do they think we're fools?" "I think they do," said Mma Pekwane. Mma Ramotswe picked up her pencil and drew several lines on her blotter. Looking at the scribbles, she saw that she had drawn a car.

She looked at Mma Pekwane. "Do you want me to tell you what to do?" she asked. "Is that what you want?"

Mma Pekwane looked thoughtful. "No," she replied. "I don't want that. I've decided what I want to do."

"And that is?"

"I want to give the car back. I want to give it back to its owner."

Mma Ramotswe sat up straight. "You want to go to the police then? You want to inform on your husband?"

"No. I don't want to do that. I just want the car to get back to its owner without the police knowing. I want the Lord to know that the car's back where it belongs."

Mma Ramotswe stared at her client. It was, she had to admit, a perfectly reasonable thing to want. If the car were to be returned to the owner, then Mma Pekwane's conscience would be clear, and she would still have her husband. On mature reflection, it seemed to Mma Ramotswe to be a very good way of dealing with a difficult situation.

"But why come to me about this?" asked Mma Ramotswe. "How can I help?"

Mma Pekwane gave her answer without hesitation.

"I want you to find out who owns that car," she said. "Then I want you to steal it from my husband and give it back to the rightful owner. That's all I want you to do."

LATER THAT evening, as she drove home in her little white van, Mma Ramotswe thought that she should never have agreed to help Mma Pekwane; but she had, and now she was committed. Yet it was not going to be a simple matter-unless, of course, one went to the police, which she clearly could not do.

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