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235 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1998
The lawyer winced as she spoke. “It’s easy to lose money in business,” he said. “Especially when you don’t know anything about what you’re doing.” He stared at her hard. “Especially then. And anyway, can women be detectives? Do you think they can?”
“Why not?” said Mma Ramotswe. She had heard that people did not like lawyers, and now she thought she could see why. This man was so certain of himself, so utterly convinced. What had it to do with him what she did? It was her money, her future. And how dare he say that about women, when he didn’t even know that his zip was half undone! Should she tell him?
“Women are the ones who know what’s going on,” she said quietly. “They are the ones with eyes. Have you not heard of Agatha Christie?”
The lawyer looked taken aback. “Agatha Christie? Of course, I know her. Yes, that is true. A woman sees more than a man sees. That is well-known.”
“So,” said Mma Ramotswe, “when people see a sign saying NO. 1 LADIES’ DETECTIVE AGENCY, what will they think? They’ll think those ladies will know what’s going on. They’re the ones.”
The lawyer stroked his chin. “Maybe.”
“Yes,” said Mma Ramotswe. “Maybe.” Adding, “Your zip, Rra. I think you may not have noticed …”
"He looked at her in the darkness, at this woman who was everything to him--mother, Africa, wisdom, understanding, good things to eat, pumpkins, chicken, the smell of sweet cattle breath, the white sky across the endless, endless bush, and the giraffe that cried, giving its tears for women to daub on their baskets;
O Botswana, my country, my place."