Morality for Beautiful Girls by Alexander McCall Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

Ramotswe’s desk.
    “Of course, I do, Rra,” said Mma Ramotswe courteously. “You are something to do with the Government. You are a Government Man. I have seen you in the newspapers many times.”
    The Government Man made an impatient gesture with his hand. “Yes, there’s that, of course. But you know who I am when I am not being a Government Man?”
    Mma Makutsi coughed politely, and the Government Man half-turned to face her.
    “This is my assistant,” explained Mma Ramotswe. “She knows many things.”
    “You are also the relative of a chief,” said Mma Makutsi. “Your father is a cousin of that family. I know that, as I come from that part too.”
    The Government Man smiled. “That is true.”
    “And your wife,” went on Mma Ramotswe, “she is some relative of the King of Lesotho, is she not? I have seen a photograph of her, too.”
    The Government Man whistled. “My! My! I can see that I have come to the right place. You people seem to know everything.”
    Mma Ramotswe nodded to Mma Makutsi and smiled. “It is our business to know things,” she said. “A private detective who knows nothing would be no use to anybody. Information is what we deal in. That is our job. Just as your job is giving orders to civil servants.”
    “I don’t just give orders,” the Government Man said peevishly. “I have to make policy. I have to make decisions.”
    “Of course,” said Mma Ramotswe hurriedly. “It must be a very big job being a Government Man.”
    The Government Man nodded. “It is not easy,” he said. “And it is not made any easier if one is worried about something. Every night I wake up at two, three and these worries make me sit up in my bed. And then I don’t sleep, and when it comes to making decisions in the morning my head is all fuzzy and I cannot think. That is what happens when you are worried.”
    Mma Ramotswe knew that they were now coming to the reason for the consultation. It was easier to reach it this way, to allow the client to bring the matter up indirectly rather than to launch straight into an enquiry. It seemed less rude, somehow, to allow the matter to be approached in this way.
    “We can help with worries,” she said. “Sometimes we can make them vanish altogether.”
    “So I have heard,” said the Government Man. “People say that you are a lady who can work miracles. I have heard that.”
    “You are very kind, Rra.” She paused, running over in her mind the various possibilities. It was probably unfaithfulness, which was the most common problem of all the clients who consulted her, particularly if, as in the Government Man’s case, they were in busy jobs that took them away from home a great deal. Or it could be something political, which would be new terrain for her. She knew nothing about the workings of political parties, other than that they involved a great deal of intrigue. She had read all about American presidents and the difficulties that they had with this scandal and that scandal, with ladies and burglars and the like. Could there be something like that in Botswana? Surely not, and if there were, she would not choose to get involved. She could not see herself meeting informants on dark corners in the dead of night, or talking in whispers to journalists in bars. On the other hand, Mma Makutsi might appreciate the opportunity …
    The Government Man raised his hand, as if to command silence. It was an imperious gesture, but then he was the scion of a well-connected family and perhaps these things came naturally.
    “I take it that I can speak in complete confidence,” he said, glancing briefly at Mma Makutsi.
    “My assistant is very confidential,” said Mma Ramotswe. “You can trust her.”
    The Government Man narrowed his eyes. “I hope so,” he said. “I know what women are like. They like to talk.”
    Mma Makutsi’s eyes opened wide with indignation.
    “I can assure you, Rra,” said Mma Ramotswe, her tone steely, “that the No. 1 Ladies’