Part 4 (1/2)
”On the other hand,” said Mma Makutsi quickly. ”I have an idea. I think I know how this might be done.”
The Government Man twisted round to face Mma Makutsi.
”What is your idea, Mma?”
Mma Makutsi swallowed. Her large gla.s.ses seemed to s.h.i.+ne with brightness at the force of the idea.
”Well,” she began. ”It is important to get into the house and listen to what those people are talking about. It is important to watch that woman who is planning to do these wicked things. It is important to look into her heart.”
”Yes,” said the Government Man. ”That is what I want you people to do. You look into that heart and find the evil. Then you s.h.i.+ne a torch on the evil and say to my brother: See! See this bad heart in your wife. See how she is plotting, plotting all the time!”
”It wouldn't be that simple,” said Mma Ramotswe. ”Life is not that simple. It just isn't.”
”Please, Mma,” said the Government Man. ”Let us listen to this clever woman in gla.s.ses. She has some very good ideas.”
Mma Makutsi adjusted her gla.s.ses and continued. ”There are servants in the house, aren't there?”
”Five,” said the Government Man. ”Then there are servants for outside. There are men who look after the cattle. And there are the old servants of my father. They cannot work anymore, but they sit in the sun outside the house and my father feeds them well. They are very fat.”
”So you see,” said Mma Makutsi. ”An inside servant sees everything. A maid sees into the bed of the husband and wife, does she not? A cook sees into their stomachs. Servants are always there, watching, watching. They will talk to another servant. Servants know everything.”
”So you will go and talk to the servants?” asked the Government Man. ”But will they talk to you? They will be worried about their jobs. They will just be quiet and say that there is nothing happening.”
”But Mma Ramotswe knows how to talk to people,” countered Mma Makutsi. ”People talk to her. I have seen it. Can you not get her to stay in your father's house for a few days? Can you not arrange that?”
”Of course I can,” said the Government Man. ”I can tell my parents that there is a woman who has done me a political favour. She needs to be away from Gaborone for a few days because of some troubles here. They will take her.”
Mma Ramotswe glanced at Mma Makutsi. It was not her a.s.sistant's place to make suggestions of this sort, particularly when their effect would be to railroad her into taking a case which she did not wish to take. She would have to speak to Mma Makutsi about this, but she did not wish to embarra.s.s her in front of this man with his autocratic ways and his pride. She would accept the case, not because his thinly veiled threat had worked-that she had clearly stood up to by saying that she could not hear him-but because she had been presented with a way of finding out what needed to be found out.
”Very well,” she said. ”We will take this on, Rra. Not because of anything you have said to me, particularly those things that I did not hear.” She paused, allowing the effect of her words to be felt. ”But I will decide what to do once I am there. You must not interfere.”
The Government Man nodded enthusiastically. ”That is fine, Mma. I am very happy with that. And I am sorry that I said things which I should not have said. You must know that my brother is very important to me. I would not have said anything if it had not been for my fears for my brother. That is all.”
Mma Ramotswe looked at him. He did love his brother. It could not be easy to see him married to a woman whom he mistrusted so strongly. ”I have already forgotten what was said, Rra,” she said. ”You need not worry.”
The Government Man rose to his feet. ”Will you start tomorrow?” he said. ”I shall make the arrangements.”
”No,” said Mma Ramotswe. ”I will start in a few days' time. I have much to do here in Gaborone. But do not worry, if there is anything that can be done for your poor brother, I shall do it. Once we take on a case, we do not treat it lightly. I promise you that.”
The Government Man reached across the desk and took her hand in his. ”You are a very kind woman, Mma. What they say about you is true. Every word.”
He turned to Mma Makutsi. ”And you, Mma. You are a clever lady. If you ever decide that you are tired of being a private detective, come and work for the Government. The Government needs women like you. Most of the women we have working in Government are no good. They sit and paint their nails. I have seen them. You would work hard, I think.”
Mma Ramotswe was about to say something, but the Government Man was already on his way out. From the window, they saw his driver open the car door smartly and slam it shut behind him.
”If I did go to work for the Government,” said Mma Makutsi, adding quickly, ”and I'm not going to do that, of course. But I wonder how long it would be before I had a car like that, and a driver.”
Mma Ramotswe laughed. ”Don't believe everything he says,” she said. ”Men like that can make all sorts of promises. And he is a very stupid man. Very proud too.”
”But he was telling the truth about the brother's wife?” asked Mma Makutsi anxiously.
”Probably,” said Mma Ramotswe. ”I don't think he made that up. But remember what Clovis Andersen says. Every story has two sides. So far, we've only heard one. The stupid side.”
LIFE WAS becoming complicated, thought Mma Ramotswe. She had just agreed to take on a case which could prove far from simple, and which would take her away from Gaborone. That in itself was problematic enough, but the whole situation became much more difficult when one thought about Mr J.L.B. Matekoni and Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors. And then there was the question of the children; now that they had settled into her house at Zebra Drive she would have to establish some sort of routine for them. Rose, her maid, was a great help in that respect, but she could not shoulder the whole burden herself.
The list she had begun to compose earlier that morning had been headed by the task of preparing the office for a move. Now she thought that she should promote the issue of the garage to the top of the list and put the office second. Then she could fit the children in below that: she wrote SCHOOL in capital letters and a telephone number beneath that. This was followed by GET MAN TO FIX FRIDGE. TAKE ROSE'S SON TO THE DOCTOR FOR HIS ASTHMA, and finally she wrote: DO SOMETHING ABOUT BAD WIFE.
”Mma Makutsi,” she said. ”I think that I am going to take you over to the garage. We cannot let Mr J.L.B. Matekoni down, even if he is behaving strangely. You must start your duties as Acting Manager right now. I will take you in the van.”
Mma Makutsi nodded. ”I am ready, Mma,” she said. ”I am ready to manage.”
CHAPTER SIX.
UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT.
T LOKWENG ROAD Speedy Motors stood a short distance off the road, half a mile beyond the two big stores that had been built at the edge of the district known as the Village. It was in a cl.u.s.ter of three buildings: a general dealer's shop that stocked everything from cheap clothing to paraffin and golden syrup, and a builder's yard which dealt in timber and sheets of corrugated iron for roofs. The garage was at the eastern end, with several thorn trees around it and an old petrol pump to the front. Mr J.L.B. Matekoni had been promised a more modern pump, but the petrol company was not keen for him to sell petrol in compet.i.tion with their more modern outlets and they conveniently forgot this promise. They continued to deliver petrol, as they were contractually bound to do, but they did it without enthusiasm and tended to forget when they had agreed to come. As a result, the fuel storage tanks were frequently empty.
None of that mattered very much. Clients came to Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors because they wanted their cars to be fixed by Mr J.L.B. Matekoni rather than to buy petrol. They were people who understood the difference between a good mechanic and one who merely fixed cars. A good mechanic understood cars; he could diagnose a problem just by listening to an engine running, in much the same way as an experienced doctor may see what is wrong just by looking at the patient.
”Engines talk to you,” he explained to his apprentices. ”Listen to them. They are telling you what is wrong with them, if only you listen.”
Of course, the apprentices did not understand what he meant. They had an entirely different view of machinery and were quite incapable of appreciating that engines might have moods, and emotions, that an engine might feel stressed or under pressure, or relieved and at ease. The presence of the apprentices was an act of charity on the part of Mr J.L.B. Matekoni, who was concerned that there should be enough properly trained mechanics in Botswana to replace his generation when it eventually retired.
”Africa will get nowhere until we have mechanics,” he once remarked to Mma Ramotswe. ”Mechanics are the first stone in the building. Then there are other people on top. Doctors. Nurses. Teachers. But the whole thing is built on mechanics. That is why it is important to teach young people to be mechanics.”
Now, driving up to Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors, Mma Ramotswe and Mma Makutsi saw one of the apprentices at the wheel of a car while the other was pus.h.i.+ng it slowly forward into the workshop. As they approached, the apprentice who was doing the pus.h.i.+ng abandoned his task to look at them and the car rolled backwards.
Mma Ramotswe parked her tiny white van under a tree and she and Mma Makutsi walked over to the office entrance.
”Good morning, Bomma,” the taller of the two apprentices said. ”Your suspension on that van of yours is very bad. You are too heavy for it. See how it goes down on one side. We can fix it for you.”
”There is nothing wrong with it,” retorted Mma Ramotswe. ”Mr J.L.B. Matekoni himself looks after that van. He has never said anything about suspension.”
”But he is saying nothing about anything these days,” said the apprentice. ”He is quite silent.”
Mma Makutsi stopped and looked at the boy. ”I am Mma Makutsi,” she said, staring at him through her large gla.s.ses. ”I am the Acting Manager. If you want to talk about suspension, then you can come and talk to me in the office. In the meantime, what are you doing? Whose car is that and what are you doing to it?”
The apprentice looked over his shoulder for support from his friend.
”It is the car of that woman who lives behind the police station. I think she is some sort of easy lady.” He laughed. ”She uses this car to pick up men and now it will not start. So she can get no men. Ha!”
Mma Makutsi bristled with anger. ”It would not start, would it?”
”Yes,” said the apprentice. ”It would not start. And so Charlie and I had to drive over with the truck and tow it in. Now we are pus.h.i.+ng it into the garage to look at the engine. It will be a big job, I think. Maybe a new starter motor. You know these things. They cost a lot of money and it is good that the men give that woman all that money so she can pay. Ha!”