01x00 - Pilot

[bunniefuu]

I learned many, many things from my father. To use my eyes. To use my ears.

Ostrich egg. Ostrich feathers.

Botswana flag.

Good.

And my memory.

Baboon's skull. Baobab seed.

Good.

He taught me to be patient. Most of all he taught me to love my country, Botswana. The finest place on God's earth. And all the creatures, great and small, that live here, except... snakes.

From my father I got a sense of justice. And the pleasure of solving a mystery.

My father gave me all those things.

Excellent, excellent!

And then he gave me his van.

Who is with him? Where is he?

Dumela, Precious.

Finally, my daddy gave me 180 cows.

Precious, I can hear my cows.

They've come down now from the cattle post.

I can hear them.

You know that I'm leaving them all to you.

I don't want the things that are yours.

I want you.

I am not frightened of passing.

I believe God is good and will take me to a land like Africa.

And there will be white cows with sweet breath.

And acacia trees.

And shade from the sun.

So, no tears.

And make me a promise.

Anything.

If you marry another man, let him be kind this time.

Bless you, my child.

Bless you.

Note is here. Look...

In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

Amen.

Your father, God go with him.

Thank you, rra.

You remember Lucky Sesana?

I remember you.

I consider myself fortunate to have been your father's lawyer.

So many funerals in Botswana these days.

The best kind, like this one, where a man has had a full life.

The other kind, from all these bad diseases.

A huge turnout.

Even his son-in-law.

I hope that wasn't too much of a shock.

He just wants to pay his respects.

Ex-son-in-law.

Ex, not ex. It's just words.

He's a man.

He wants to do right.

Will you speak with him?

The last time he spoke to me it was with his fist and the buckle of his belt.

The last time we were at a funeral, it was for the baby I lost...

Because of that b*ating.

Do you know what you will do?

Do how?

With your cows?

Nearly 200 of them.

You're a very wealthy woman.

My daddy is not even cold in the ground!

But think on it. You could send the cattle back to the cattle post, live off the calves and milk. Better than money in the bank.

Lucky Sesana can arrange that for you.

Or, option two, you could sell a few, open a bottle store, come back to the village. Live the good life.

I can arrange that, too.

Did Note bring his trumpet?

What is Note without his trumpet?

Tell him, if he plays, he can stay.

1.3. 1.3.

1.4. 1.4.

1,400.

1,000.

For 1,800 pula.

1,800 pula. One hundred, number 60.

Thank you so much.

That is a fine old vehicle.

A new car, you open the bonnet and you scratch your head.

An old car is a friend.

"Hello," it says when you open it up.

A new car says, "Hey, don't touch me, I am a computer, "I only talk to other computers."

At the Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors, we only look after cars we can make friends with.

I think we'll make friends with your van.

I am grateful.

Every man I am meeting wants me to change something.

I prefer to fix things myself.

And what brings you to Gaborone?

I have just sold my father's cattle, so I am looking for a nice house in the city.

And then I will find an office and start my own business.

And what business is that?

I'm going to open a detective agency.

Really?

Eh, rra.

Then the bad men better watch out!

What?

Those are the very same words my father said to me when I told him.

And can I ask why a fine woman like yourself wants to become a detective?

Because I love my country, Botswana.

And I love Africa, and I want to do good with the time God has given me.

In every bottle store, in every bar and market, behind every window, there are so many people who want to know the truth about some mystery in their lives, some mystery they cannot solve themselves.

That is what a detective is for.

And that is what I will do.

And I know I will succeed.

Because a woman knows what's going on more than a man.

We women, we notice things that men do not notice.

For instance, Mr Matekoni, I notice some things about you.

You are a widower.

How did you know I lost my wife?

You still have a faint line on your ring finger.

And I think a man who has divorced his wife has a bitter way with words when he speaks about women.

You do not.

And I also suspect you are a little worried about your weight.

How did you know that?

Your belt.

It is one notch looser than it used to be.

I think you will make a very fine detective.

Is that the city of Gaborone?

I don't think so.

No, no, no, no, no, there's something wrong.

Thabiso!

Thabiso!

Thabiso!

Dumela.

Dumela.

What's happening?

We've got a problem here.

What's happened?

We've got a child missing.

A boy is lost.

The police are saying perhaps the lions have taken him.

But how can there be lions so close to Gaborone?

Poor man.

These days when a child is lost we all suspect the worst.

There are people out there with dark ideas.

I'm so sorry.

He's a good man.

He's a teacher.

How can we believe men would do these things?

Take and m*rder a child for medicine?

There are only three words I can use to describe this place.

Modern, high tech, state of the art, and open plan for you.

Those are the only four words that can describe it. All wonderful.

Now this one is a new building.

It's got all the stuff you need.

And this is all for you.

Just enjoy it.

And all the big guys are here.

This is the promised...

This is where you can operate from.

You need to do a good business.

I know this place is not so good.

I know, I can see it.

But you could tear it down and build something modern and beautiful.

Look here, man, I have so much to get done.

Put the money in my account tomorrow morning. I have everything done...

I talked yesterday about this...

Good morning, BK, how are you this morning?

Hi, how are you?

Morning.

Open up, open up, open up.

What you need to do is make sure that when you come up on this side, it's got to be clean brush strokes.

I'm trying to explain something to you.

You can only play...!

I'm BK.

Madam Ramotswe.

But you know what, I've got a much better idea.

Come, come, come, come.

The Number 1 Ladies', apostrophe, Detective Agency.

Dumela.

Congratulations.

Congratulations. It's a beautiful place.

I've always loved Zebra Drive.

I love my new house, too.

Do you want some bush tea?

OK, bye. See you again next time.

We love you, BK.

I love you back, baby. Bye!

You look gorgeous. Bye.

Thank you.

A woman cannot be a detective.

Why would you tell your problems to a woman?

That place should be called the No Customer Detective Agency.

Have you seen the detective?

She is the size of a small elephant.

How could she go undercover?

Imagine being followed undercover by an elephant!

Koko.

Koko!

Dumela, mma.

Dumela, I need some stamps.

I'm sorry, we are a detective agency now.

So you don't have stamps?

Can I have a postal order for 300 pula?

We don't have that either.

We are now a detective agency.

What about envelopes?

I can give you one.

No charge.

Thank you.

Dumela, mma.

Dumela...

Principles of Private Investigation, by Clovis Anderson.

Is that your Bible?

No! My Bible is my Bible.

Although this is a very good book, I believe the best way to learn how to do something is to do it.

Hey, you're so right.

You know, I always say, you can never learn how to cut people's hair out of a book.

It's all in the karma of hair and hands.

So, are you busier than the road to Lobatse with cases to solve?

Not really.

Right now I am not much of a detective.

You know, I hear of so many problems when I'm cutting hair.

I'm going to tell my customers, "Go next door to my good friend, the Number 1 Ladies' Detective, "and she'll sort it out."

If anybody comes to give me a case, and their hair is a mess, I shall say, "Go next door to my good friend BK

"at The Last Chance Salon.

"He will sort it out."

That I will do.

You know, the first two weeks when we got here, there was not even a single client.

I had to cut my assistant's hair 20 times just to look busy.

At the end he was bald.

But very cute.

And finally, they came, they came, they came.

Koko.

Koko!

Dumela, mma.

Dumela, mma.

Please enter.

I am the detective.

Please go in.

A very comfortable chair.

Good.

It's important for people who have uncomfortable things to talk about, to talk about them in comfort.

And, even then, it takes time to open up.

It takes time.

Look, I will make us a cup of bush tea.

There is no problem so great it cannot be solved by a cup of bush tea.

Just forgive me if we are disturbed at some point by a visitor.

I'm expecting a young secretary this morning.

Apparently, she achieved the highest ever result from the Botswana College of Secretarial and Office Skills.

96%.

97%, in fact.

You know the lady in question?

I am the lady in question.

I was expecting someone...

Younger...

Perhaps younger.

When someone says "secretary", an image springs to mind of someone who is...

In a tight skirt who will very soon be disgracing herself under a desk with her boss in ways that only God knows how she can still look at herself in a mirror!

Not quite. Not always.

But often!

I cannot tell you the number of times I have applied for jobs, with my 97%, and found myself in competition with a girl with 42%

and a very short skirt, and every time it is short skirt who gets the job!

I'm sorry to hear that.

It is the way of the world.

It is the way of the man's world.

But this is the Number 1 Ladies' Detective Agency.

I will give you a month's trial and, if you are a good secretary...

I think I've mentioned. 97%.

Indeed you have, but...

Which is unprecedented.

I'm sure it is.

I will start work straightaway.

Are there any case notes you would like me to type up?

Koko!

Enter!

Can I borrow your kettle, mma?

Ours has fused.

And it is impossible to cut someone's hair without having a cup of tea.

Certainly, help yourself.

Thank you, darling lady.

So, how is it going today?

Lots of kidnaps and killings?

Not lots yet.

You know, I was thinking the other day, whilst I was cutting some really big hair, how similar our jobs are.

Hairdresser and detective.

In what way?

Both of us can totally change someone's life in an afternoon.

You, by solving the problems in their lives and me, by solving the problems of their hair.

Mr BK, this is um...

Grace Makutsi.

My new secretary.

Secretary?

I was certain you were someone with a big problem for the lady detective to solve.

Although we do have a little problem, don't we?

I think your hair and my scissors should spend some quality time together as soon as possible.

Bye-bye.

That man is very much like a woman.

Dumela, mma.

Dumela, rra.

Thank you, rra.

I don't think we need to take both typewriters.

We are not yet, as it were, inundated with typing needs. Quite so...

But, in this imperfect world, I was only able to locate two typewriters and both have problems with certain letters.

But I sincerely hope that, between the two machines, you'll be able to type every word you need.

You are a dear friend, rra.

No, it's you who is a dear friend.

You are so dear to me.

Honestly, it's nothing.

I appreciate what you do...

Sensitivity about my needs...

Can I ask a question in-between this discussion, none of my business, about who is a dear friend and who is not? Just to check the century...

Excuse me?

Is this the 21st century or did I slip without realising into a time warp?

What are you talking about?

At secretarial college, in history class, we were told of a former time, before computers, when typing was done on machines and our country was called Bechuanaland and dinosaurs roamed the earth!

Koko!

And that is someone at the door.

Excuse me.

I'll go.

Dumela, mma.

Dumela, mma.

Is this the Number 1 Ladies' Detective Agency?

I'm sorry, my sister, but the job of secretary has, unfortunately, already been taken.

As I say, unfortunately!

I am not a secretary, mma.

I have a job.

I just need to speak with a detective.

About what?

About a problem.

A problem?

A mystery?

Yes, exactly. A mystery.

Hallelujah!

Don't panic. Please, just sit down here, and we can enjoy a cup of bush tea in the shade.

I am Madam Ramotswe, the detective.

That is me.

We have a case.

Yes! Yes!

I need tea. I need tea.

My name is Happy, Happy Bapetsi.

That is a good name.

And are you happy, Happy?

Most of the time, I am happy, although of course, at the moment, I've come to see you because I am not happy.

Of course.

But what kind parents you had, calling you Happy.

Imagine if they called you Miserable!

Yes, that would not have been good.

Or Ugly!

Imagine if every time someone said, "Are you Ugly?", you would have to say, "Yes, I am!"

Yes! Or, if they had called me Fatty, then I would always have to say, Yes, it is me, I am Fatty!", for example...

No, mma.

I'm of traditional build, and many men like it that way.

Of course.

Now tell me, what is making you unhappy, Happy Bapetsi?

Here is my story.

When I was very young, my daddy left home and we never heard from him again.

I'm sorry.

No, do not be too sad.

My mother and I were very happy.

But, one day, we heard from a friend that they had been in a hospital in Zimbabwe and had seen a man they think was my daddy, and he was being carried out on a trolley, dead.

Now I am sorry.

Then, two years ago, my mother herself d*ed.

This is truly bad news.

I miss her very much.

But she had taught me many things and since she was laid, I have made a great success of my life in her honour.

But, two months ago, I was sitting in the garden of my very nice house when an old man approached, and he said to me, "Are you Happy Bapetsi?"

And I said, "Yes, I am."

And he began to weep and cry and he said, "My darling Happy, "I am your daddy!"

Your daddy! He was NOT dead?

He was not dead.

This is a very good story.

My daddy returned.

And I took him in and, and I fed him, and every day since then I have attended to all his needs and they are many.

He does no work, he does no cleaning, and he is always asking for more beer, more pap and more meat.

My sister, taking care of an old man can be very taxing.

I took care of my father for many years of illness.

It was hard, hard.

But, in the end, it was the best time I ever spent.

Because he was your daddy.

That is my problem, mma.

I am starting to suspect that this man may not actually be my daddy.

Not the daddy?

I think he may be an impostor, who is only living with me because I have money and a good job.

This is a very bad story.

I'm sorry, mma.

It will be him who will be sorry, if I discover he is not the daddy.

So, mma, you will take the case?

You have come to the right place, Happy Bapetsi.

This is definitely a case for the Number 1 Ladies' Detective Agency.

Houston, we have blast-off... take-off!

Houston, we are in the rocket ship and heading for the stars!

Case number one, Happy Bapetsi and the Dubious Daddy.

Happy, Happy, hurry up...

Coming! Coming!

Bye-bye, Daddy.

Bye-bye.

Sorry, sorry!

Sorry.

I have typed a report.

Very good.

The case of Happy Bapetsi and the Dubious Daddy.

No developments, no leads, no progress, endless cups of bush tea.

Excellent.

Very accurate report.

Thank you.

Please make a file so that you can file it.

It is just that I cannot help observing you have been sitting in your chair for two hours and 47 minutes doing absolutely nothing.

Doing nothing?!

I've been thinking, and thinking is the most important part of the work of a detective agency.

I am, despite superficial appearances, working extremely hard.

And have you had a breakthrough?

My thinking is progressing, but not yet to the point of breakthrough.

Then I will leave you to work hard once more.

Thank you.

I am sorry to disturb you again, mma, particularly since you are working so very hard, but there is someone here to see you.

Really?

Eh, mma.

It is very busy now.

It is like the Sir Seretse Khama airport in here.

Dumela, mma.

Where's the detective?

That is me, sister. I am the detective.

And you claim you are the number 1 lady detective?

It is true.

On whose say-so?

There are no other lady detectives in Botswana, therefore I am definitely number 1.

What is your success rate?

We have absolutely no dissatisfied clients.

So if... for instance, a woman came to you suspicious of her husband, you could guarantee to find out whether he is or is not unfaithful?

Most men are unfaithful.

You don't need a detective to tell you that!

You are married?

You do not need to be married to know about men!

What woman has not suffered pain and heartbreak at the hands of a man?

Perhaps I can ask you to step into my office?

Good idea. I have a bad feeling about this husband.

I know him.

He acts strange.

When he acts strange, I get a feeling.

A feeling?

Last Wednesday, for instance, he told me he was delayed in Maun, and then he didn't come home at all.

Very bad sign.

Last night, he took me for a romantic buffet dinner at Gaborone Sun and told me...

I was the most beautiful woman in Botswana.

Adulterer!

Thank you, mma.

I'm sorry. My secretary is new.

But is she right?

Is he a philanderer of the first water?

I will try to find out.

Find out.

He is Busang, Kremlin Busang.

Here are some photographs.

I am Busang, too, of course.

Alice.

Yes, I know.

He's very handsome.

Does he look like a rascal?

I would want some proof before I said that.

Yes, me too.

I want proof.

Proper proof.

Yes, so, quite funny.

A new customer, a Chinese gentleman, very grateful that I'd repaired his car, dirty spark plugs, nothing really, gave me this perfume for my wife and I, not having one, thought of you.

Thank you, rra.

I'm not one for wearing perfume, but thank you, rra, for thinking of me.

I did.

So, how's the vehicle?

Brakes better?

Yes, working fine again.

Good.

Where does a man go to find a woman?

Where does a man go to find a woman?

We're not talking about this man and this woman?

Not a man like you, rra.

Not a woman like me.

I'm afraid I don't know where a man goes to find a woman.

A hotel? The golf club? A casino?

No, too public.

This man would not want his wife to find out.

My apprentices sometimes go to these bars and clubs.

They go to the Go-Go Handsome Men's Bar.

That is a dark place where a man might not be recognised, where it's too dark to tell whether a man is handsome or not, or married or not.

Excellent, rra.

Excellent lead.

You know, I'm going to take a nice bath and try your perfume.

Ah, good. Very good. All good.

The Go-Go Handsome Men's Bar?

That's the one.

Are you looking for your husband?

Are you looking for a customer?

I'm looking for an iced tea.

We don't serve iced tea.

Then I'll take a small glass of beer.

OK, sharp.

Would you like to borrow some lipstick?

No, thank you.

Hey, ladies.

You are new here?

I'm waiting for someone.

I think I know who.

Really? Who?

Me.

In fact, I think you have been waiting for me your whole life.

Let me buy you a drink.

No, thank you. I'm just leaving.

She likes iced tea, Kremlin.

Then I will buy you an iced tea.

They don't serve iced tea.

Then we will go somewhere where they do.

If my fatty wants iced tea, then I will climb a mountain to find it.

You are very kind.

I'm sure there are others you wish to talk to here.

No, none, skinny little baby girls!

I really am leaving.

If you leave me, I shall walk straight out behind you, and, if you won't take me with you wherever you go, I shall k*ll myself right there on the street.

Do you have a wife, rra?

Because I'm not leaving a bar with a man who is a married man.

I love a woman with values.

All my life, I've been saving myself for such a woman.

Beautiful lady, I am as single as Jesus Christ.

Where can we find an iced tea at this time of night?

The only place you can get iced tea is the President Hotel.

And it will cost you an arm and leg.

And I need both arms, mma, to put around you.

Don't you have an iced tea at your house?

Don't you have iced tea at your house?

And my house is far far.

And I bet your house has a love seat for your lovely seat, eh?

Am I right? I know I'm right. Yeah?

I have no love seat in my far far house.

In my house, Zebra Drive.

Zebra Drive? Not bad.

I'm going to tell you one thing right here and now, my fatty.

You are a proper, gorgeous African woman.

You are fat and fabulous.

Amen.

Fabulous. Fabulous.

I love this house.

What kind of woman are you to own a house like this?

A woman who had a good father.

What do you do for a living?

It's difficult to describe.

Let's say I try to solve people's problems.

I want to marry you.

I have so many problems and you are the solution to them all, uh?

I don't even know your name.

You can call me Dollar.

Dollar?

So why did that girl in the Go-Go Handsome Men's Bar call you Kremlin?

Kremlin is my nickname. It's what all the girls call me. Because I can keep a secret. Like the spies in the Kremlin.

I can love you and nobody need know.

Come here, big girl.

Come here and tell me when was the last time a good man made you happy?

I think the question is, when was the last time a bad man made me happy.

Let's put on some music and turn down the lights, eh?

You are a goddess.

I could look at that view all night.

Oh, my Lord.

Now, come to Kremlin and let us make some secret music together.

You and me, then me and you.

Then maybe later some more... you.

Yeah? And me.

I just...

What?

Just want to ***.

You are bad.

You want to take pictures of us, hmm?

I just wanted to take a picture of you, but... if you think it should be of both of us?

Of course, of course.

What a good idea.

Let me do it.

Do you want to take something off first?

Let's start at the beginning.

Fully dressed.

Like a photo diary, eh?

Exactly. Like a diary.

Entry number one.

The kiss.

That was a good kiss.

I know.

But unfortunately the flash did not go off.

One more time?

Go home.

Go home.

What about entry number two?

Entry number two?

Entry number two will be next time.

I can't go home. I will die.

I will die of passion.

I will die of holding in all this passion. Please.

Good things come to those who wait.

I will be here again.

Right outside your door.

On my knees.

With my eyes closed and my lips parted.

Alice Busang was just here.

To say what?

To say you should call her.

You cannot, of course, not having a telephone.

There is a perfectly good public telephone outside.

We are a detective agency.

What if that phone is busy or, heaven forbid, somebody wanted to call us?

That is why I have a secretary.

She came in, she left a message.

But she wants to talk to you.

I don't like telephones.

People think they can just speak to you willy-nilly.

She's a client!

How can we make the agency a success if we don't want to speak to clients?

I'm frustrated.

I know.

It is unprofessional.

Very well then.

Buy a telephone.

Does it have to be on all the time?

We can get an answerphone.

Hello. This is the Number 1 Ladies' Detective Agency.

We are out at this moment.

Or we are busy. Or we are una...

I am busy. And I'm going out.

I think I'd like this one.

That's a nice one.

Delicious. Five pula.

Thank you, my Lily.

You're doing so well.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Later, Lily.

See you later.

Bye. Bye.

This is my son, right?

It's been two weeks now.

My son has disappeared. We have looked for him all over. At that time, he left our place and went to school. When he didn't return around 4:00pm, I actually thought he'd come home. Because he usually plays with other boys after school or even goes to his aunt's place. But he never came home. I've been waiting and waiting and waiting. And I'm honestly getting worried.

I'm really looking forward to seeing my son again.

My wife is so devastated.

We really miss him. But...

His name is Thabiso.

This is his picture...

That's why I could never be a parent.

One of the reasons anyway.

You can see that this poor man would cut himself in half if it would bring back his son.

It's true, rra.

It is so true what you say.

A daddy would cut himself in half.

Thank you.

This is what the great Mr Clovis Andersen would call a breakthrough.

Nurse Kgomotso.

This is my good friend, Mma Ramotswe.

She's Botswana's first lady detective and she needs your help.

Dumela, mma.

Dumela, mma. How can I help you?

You could have helped me by eating more food and taking less exercise.

Sorry? What?

Thank you, my dear friend.

Come now, sister.

All will be explained in a moment.

Are you Rra Bapetsi?

What's happening?

Are you Rra Bapetsi?

Yes, I am.

The daddy of Happy Bapetsi?

Yes, indeed.

What is going on?

I've got very bad news for you.

Something terrible has happened.

No, not to my daughter?

I am afraid so.

She has been in a car accident.

Oh, my darling Happy.

Tell me she's not dead.

Tell a poor old man his only daughter is still alive.

She is.

But her life is hanging by a thread.

Take me to her. I must watch over her.

I must make sure no expense is spared to bring her back to health.

Rra, you are a good man.

A good daddy.

I'm afraid I must tell you more of the bad news.

I'm a man, I can take it.

Happy has lost a lot of blood.

Then we'll replace it. We have a lot of money.

We'll buy all the blood in Gaborone.

Do not worry. We will not have to do that.

Blood is free?

No, but your beautiful daughter...

She's very beautiful.

Your very beautiful daughter has a very rare blood type.

Then we'll track it down.

We have already done so.

Praise the Lord.

The only person in Botswana who will have her blood type will be a blood relative.

We will not have to pay for the blood, because it will be your blood.

My blood?

How much of my blood?

About half.

Half of my blood?

It was a terrible accident.

Blood is pouring from your daughter in more than one place.

She is like a fountain of blood.

How lucky she is to have a daddy who would save her life, even perhaps at the risk of his own.

Is it?

Imagine it, the whole bottom half of your body, or the top, drained off in an hour.

Half of my body without blood?

At least.

I'm afraid there's been a mistake.

A mistake? Of what kind?

I am not the daddy of Happy Bapetsi.

I beg your pardon?

I'm not the daddy.

Not the daddy?

Out!

Here? This is nowhere!

Get out!

And what about my things? What about my laptop, my bluetooth? And what about my boom-boom box? My satellite dish?

Get off with you. You are not a man, you are a worm, and worms have no possessions! Get off! Get off with you!

You should have stayed in the village. You have no business in my business.

You need a man! Women!

Dumela, darling lady. Dumela, dear friend. Come, we need you.

So, word around the Kgale Shopping Centre is that you no longer need my encouragement.

I still have to thank you for it.

Well, sit down. We need to talk about fingers.

This handsome gentleman here, his name is Hector Lepodise.

Mma Ramotswe.

Mma Ramotswe.

Mma, I have a man who lost his finger at my factory.

Hector owns a bolt-making factory.

It's the bolt for the roof.

Your roof has it, my roof has it, Hector makes it.

The thing is he wants compensation. A lot.

I've got a letter from his lawyer.

4,000 pula.

A very valuable finger.

Cut off mine. I need the cash.

I want to be fair.

And so you should be.

For a working man to lose his finger, it's a terrible thing.

By the way, Hector Lepodise is a Christian man.

A big tipper.

Well, God sees us.

You think so?

I think we're so tiny when God looks down at us.

It's like the hair on your head. Millions of them.

But God sees the whole haircut.

This Moretsi, he's called Moretsi.

Never had a smile on his face.

Then one day he was gone.

The next thing I have a certificate from the hospital and a letter from his lawyer.

Then you should pay.

I like those.

Me, too.

When my sugar daddy comes, I'm going to have diamond ones.

Well, you're right, I will pay.

But my intuition, my nose, tells me something is wrong, something is fishy.

Traumatic amputation.

Solomon Moretsi.

It's very convincing.

I will not pay. I refuse.

I have good men in there with six, seven, eight children.

Think what 4,000 pula could do for them.

But they haven't lost their fingers.

Maybe.

You investigate, detect.

If you find something wrong, I'll pay.

If you find nothing wrong, I will still pay, but to a charity instead.

We live in a great country, we should not be cheating each other.

Lucky Sesana!

This is his lawyer?

Sesana, yes.

This is the man.

Is it?

Now I am getting a slight smell of fish in my nostrils.

He probably did it deliberately.

Who?

This Solomon fellow.

He probably cut off his finger deliberately.

He probably thought losing a finger was worth 4,000 bucks.

We have poor people in our country and people are desperate.

They have debts.

Go to a witch doctor. Sell a finger.

Go home. You're not working. Go home.

I said go home!

I've got a detective here and she's my witness. Four o'clock.

And no overtime.

Every week I see overtime written on your dockets.

Monday overtime. Tuesday overtime.

What about undertime?

I should write undertime.

You talk of losing fingers. This garage is costing me an arm and a leg.

Rra, you are not yourself today.

Let me fetch you some iced water.

We expect to change the brake pads every 25,000 k's, not every 5 minutes.

It is surprising.

It is this crazy traffic in Gaborone.

Look at this big man's car.

Obviously he didn't use his brakes.

Is that what you want?

For me to crash because I did not use my brakes?

Who is feeding you?

Feeding me?

Who is feeding you?

I think you are going to that City Shopping Mall and eating that fast food.

Bad temper food.

It's got nothing to do with food.

Get inside.

We towed this car in here yesterday.

It crashed on the A1 from Lobatse.

Bad road. I have to rescue many cars from that road.

It's a new car. If I told you how much this costs, you would say give me the money so I can open a hospital.

This is what is making you so unhappy?

This is making me so unhappy.

Don't touch it.

This is bad, bad stuff.

Muti.

Witchcraft.

I think this is somebody's finger.

Even the smell is an evil smell.

Did you call the police?

No. I called you.

Rra, whose car is this?

You will not know his name.

But this is a name. Charlie Kgotso.

Where there are g*ns, where there are dr*gs, where there are disappearances, you will hear this name.

You will hear the name Charlie Kgotso whispered in the streets, but you'll not hear it in court, or see it in the papers because this is a big man with big friends.

I will take this.

I will have the bone tested.

What happens when the big man comes for his car?

You say it disappeared.

I might as well burn down my garage right now!

It is not your fault if this thing has been stolen.

That would be a lie.

I've never been able to lie. My tongue swells up. People always know.

That is what I admire about you, rra.

But sometimes a lie for a good reason is a good lie.

I cannot.

Put the pouch back and come outside.

I can't put the pouch back. If I put the pouch back...

Please, just do what I ask.

What...

Nothing.

Nothing to do with you, rra.

A thief.

A thief took this thing.

Tell your Mr Kgotso there has been a break-in.

He should check to see if anything has been stolen. And, if it has, you tell him you have a friend, a very fine detective, a lady detective, as a matter of fact, who will find this missing item.

Tell him she is the best lady detective in all of Botswana.

Hello.

Is your husband missing?

Did someone steal your cow?

If so, you have reached the Number 1 Detective...

If you are looking for your husband, we do not...

This is the Number 1 Ladies' Detective Agency.

At your service, at the ready.

No, there's nothing to write down.

I'm just wondering...

There is always something to write down.

Procedure is very important.

This is my training.

We go back over our cases, it'll be there.

Dates, interviews, every hunch, every hint.

Or, in our case, every unc, every int.

It transpires we have no H on either typewriter.

We have lost the H?

It was already missing.

Wait a moment.

Say that again.

We have no H.

And the next bit.

We haven't lost the H because...

It was...

Already missing.

Excellent work, mma. Brilliant!

Another breakthrough.

You are a very excellent secretary.

I need to go and pay another visit to my good friend Doctor Gulubane.

And you...

Use your new telephone.

Call every insurance company in Botswana and ask them about missing fingers.

Missing fingers?

I want to know about every single claim concerning missing fingers.

There we are.

Solomon Moretsi.

Osteomyelitis.

Amputation of the proximal phalangeal joint. May 17th.

Can I make a photocopy?

And now I need to ask you a strange question.

Could... that... be the same finger?

Precious, where did you get this?

It's evidence in another case.

This is a bad thing.

People show no respect.

But this is not the finger I amputated.

You sure?

It is an index finger.

But it belongs to a child.

A child?

Be careful.

This beautiful land of ours, so much progress, so much good, but always shadows, evil and superstitions.

Be very careful, Precious.

I will, rra. I will.

Precious, dumela.

Dumela, rra.

How wonderful to see you.

I wondered whether you'd have second thoughts.

I did.

Very hard being a lady detective.

I made a little bet with your husband.

We play pool together, now and again.

I made a little bet with Note that you'd come back.

Did you write this letter?

How did you come by this?

I'm acting for Hector Lepodise, owner of the bolt factory.

Then I hope you have money. My client was injured.

We have all the documentation.

This is an insurance matter. Nothing for a lady detective.

I want to make a little bet with you.

What do you charge Mr Solomon Moretsi?

10%?

15%?

25%.

1,000 pula. No claim, no pay.

I bet you 1,000 pula your claim will not be successful.

No claim, you pay me 1,000 pula.

Your claim succeeds, I pay you 1,000.

It would be stealing to take your money.

Let's say it would be a fine for not taking your good advice.

If you insist.

I insist.

I love medical terms.

Osteomyelitis.

Beautiful word.

Infection of the bone.

What, what else does it say here?

The following week, May 17th of this year, surgery was performed at the Princess Marina Hospital in Gaborone and Mr Solomon Moretsi's damaged finger was amputated at the proximal phalangeal joint.

Ouch.

Ouchy-wouchy.

And according to your letter, and the incident book at the factory, this happened on Wednesday May 10th.

I think that's right.

May the 10th.

Good.

Of course, May 10th wasn't a Wednesday this year.

It was a Friday.

Wednesday, Friday, still ouchy-wouchy.

The problem is, I called another insurance company, and last year on May 10th, also not a Wednesday, our friend Solomon lost his finger.

Same place, same finger, same amputation at the phalangeal joint.

He made a successful claim. 3,000 pula.

And then...

I called another company.

And the year before, also on May 10th, but this time truly a Wednesday, this astonishingly unlucky man lost yet another finger.

And this is the strange part.

You made the claim for him.

Lucky Sesana.

Lucky Sesana and Associates.

Lucky Sesana LLB and Associates.

Each time.

I hope you have 1,000 pula standing by.

And I hope... you are lucky enough to have an associate who knows about fraud.

Sala sentle.

Solomon Moretsi?

Who wants to know?

Your daughter is full of life.

She's not my daughter.

She's my sister's daughter.

Lovely smile.

Big soul.

That's true.

It's a hot one.

Let's go in the shade and talk.

About what?

About the law.

Are you the police?

I'm a detective.

Let's walk away so that nobody's embarrassed.

What does a man do with 4,000 pula?

What do you mean?

Such a lot of money.

Particularly if he receives it once a year.

Does he drink too much beer?

Does he buy himself a big car?

Go to the casino and gamble?

If you ever had 4,000 pula, what would you do with it?

I'd give it to buy these kids new clothes, or this year...

A swing to swing on.

I'd give it to my sister's daughter, or my brother's twins.

Over there.

I'd give it to orphans like these, who did nothing bad, ever, except to be born in the wrong time, in the wrong place, when a disease can take your parents just like this.

And then your aunties.

Then you.

I'm glad to hear the money has been so well spent.

But in the future... you must find a way to earn it legally.

Do not contact an insurance company again...

Unless you really do have eight fingers or less.

We are winning, Mma Makutsi. We are winning.

And now we just have to tell Alice Busang the news about her bad boy husband and we will indubitably be...

Mma Busang is here.

Thank you.

Dumela, mma.

You say you have news?

Yes, mma, I do.

Good.

My Kremlin was out late again the other night and when he got home, he had some cock and bull story...

What kind of cock and bull are we talking about?

He said he was on a charity mission.

A charity mission?

He had to escort an old woman home who was too fat to walk.

Is that right?

*It's* well.

I'm afraid, my sister, I have come to the definite conclusion that your husband is not a good man.

And do you have proof?

The proof is in an envelope on my desk.

I think it would be better, if perhaps, you inspected it in private.

I have looked at the photographs, and yes, you are right, there is only one possible conclusion you can draw from them.

I'm afraid so.

The conclusion that you are a slut.

A great big slut, who has seduced my poor husband.

This is you, is it not? Kissing my husband!

I am playing a part to demonstrate your husband is unfaithful.

How dare you kiss my Kremlin.

You thief.

You Jezebel.

You have stolen my husband from under my nose.

But you wanted proof.

Proof that my husband is unfaithful, not proof that you are the fattest tart in Gaborone.

I suspect this is not a case for which we will be receiving payment.

Please tell your boss we are doing everything we can to revover his...

Here she is.

The fine lady detective I was telling you about.

Dumela, mma.

Dumela.

Mma Ramotswe.

We've had a burglary.

These days, too much crime.

My friend here has lost something from his car.

No? Hectic.

What were they taking?

A mobile phone? A bluetooth?

Some items.

Let me get you my card...

She's going to get a card.

... to give to your boss.

I have a very good success rate at finding items. And discreetly.

I told him. I told my brother here this.

Someone loses some items, whatever, you will find them.

With, with your special powers.

She's incredible.

I want what belongs to my boss brought back to me.

I don't like this.

I'm worried for you.

Do not worry about me, I am made of strong stuff.

It is those people who are spoiling our beloved Botswana who need to be worried.

Move.

She can do the pom pom, she can do the twist.

The twist?

Do it again.

Thank you for visiting us, *rra*.

Lily, please go and get us a lovely bag of dried mopane worms.

Lily's mother makes these cakes.

I like them.

Don't you?

I'm not speaking to you here.

My office is opposite the President's Hotel.

Meet me there in ten minutes.

I prefer to do important business in public places.

Everybody stays on best behaviour.

I am the detective friend of JLB Matekoni.

The mechanic.

He's in big trouble.

Because someone broke into your car?

No, because something was stolen from my car.

He asked me to help him find what was stolen.

Is this chocolate?

I don't know if it's chocolate.

Let's find out.

I've found what you are looking for.

Where did you find it?

I made some investigations.

I found the two boys who stole your property.

Sharp.

Sharp.

Give me their names. These boys are going to be very sorry.

Think the most sorry they can be.

They're going to be more sorry than that.

I made them a promise.

They returned what they took from you and I forgot their names.

I may have to jog your memory.

I have your muti.

I don't know what you're talking about.

Your medicine, rra. Bad medicine.

As I said, I don't know what you're talking about.

Parts of a child.

Lily, thank you.

Dumela.

Hi.

Hi. You're so pretty, huh?

High five.

Take the girl, go and buy some ice-cream.

I don't think she wants an ice-cream.

Yes, I do.

Yes, she does.

Buy her ice-cream.

I want to make a proposition.

There is no proposition, no business, OK?

Stop that.

I want to...

Now you bring me back what I want and your little friend, the mechanic, will be OK.

I want some medicine myself.

I need to punish a man.

He said he loved me.

He lied.

You want medicine?

That's why I'm here.

Dumela.

How much is that?

It's not for sale.

That one?

It's not for sale.

What is...

Nothing is for sale! Now go.

So you want muti?

That's funny.

It's not funny.

I want to hurt this man.

I want him to suffer the way I am suffering.

Well, maybe.

Maybe, just maybe, I can help you with your problem.

Good.

Then I can help you with your problem.

Good.

Because I was just wondering about your young friend, Lily.

And whether she will make it back safely from the ice-cream parlour.

I can draw you a map.

Tell them Charlie Kgotso sent you.

We are friends, you will get a discount.

It's a long way north, in the Pans.

It's not a good place.

But then, you don't go to good places to buy bad things Now, where's my property?

You're eating it.

It's inside.

The cake?

Excellent choice. 500 pula?

I think you will be happy with my camera work.

Many good sh*ts.

Excellent work, Mma Makutsi.

And now...

I need you to hold the fort for me.

I am suffering.

Well, maybe.

Maybe, just maybe, I can help you with your problem.

I'm going on a journey.

I want to know who thinks they can sell a child's finger and get away with it.

Koko!

Koko!

I'm very hot.

I need water.

Dumela, mma.

I'm very thirsty.

Thank you, my sister.

You're a long way from anywhere.

I was sent by a friend in Gaborone.

A friend of yours and mine.

We don't have friends in big towns.

Charlie Kgotso.

He told me you could help me.

I have trouble with another woman.

My husband is the person you're looking for. He is not here today. He's across the border. You will have to come back. He will help you.

I will come back.

But I must warn you.

I'm a typist.

Do you know what that is?

I type things for the police.

Last week, I typed something about your husband.

The police are looking for him because they say he sells bad things, very bad things. Parts of children.

They are going to arrest your husband and hang him.

I came to warn you, they are going to hang you too because they say you are a part of this.

They do not like witchcraft.

They are ashamed such things happen in Botswana.

The boy is not dead.

They cannot hang me if the boy is not dead...

What are you saying to me?

What boy? Where is this boy?

I'm not lying. He's not dead. He's with our cattle.

The big men who want powerful medicine.

It has to be fresh. It has to be fresh when they take it.

You took this boy from his family.

They bring him here, not me.

I don't even know their names.

I never leave this place. Never!

You come with me.

Who are you to ask me all these questions?

You are not a typist. I don't believe you!

You will take me to this boy now.

And I hope for your sake he is not harmed, not one hair on his head.

I will not chase you!

I will drive back to the police!

They will find you with their radars and dogs!

Why does the boy not just run away?

We told him he cannot because magic will find him.

And run away where? There's nowhere to run to.

This boy better have all his fingers. I will count them.

You can buy a bone in any street in Johannesburg.

Any bone you like.

Stop talking.

You are poisoning my ears.

Why, I can do that... if I want.

Stay there.

Listen to me now.

I'm here to help you. I'm not going to hurt you.

I am Mma Ramotswe.

I am a detective.

And I think you are the son of a schoolteacher.

Am I right?

Let me see your hands.

Show me your fingers.

You have lovely hands.

I've seen what you've done to this boy.

I can see the cuts on him.

Look, mma.

It's OK.

It's good.

We do not want her in our van.

Let her run!

Let the hyenas eat her!

Let's go home.

Our topic for today.

Peace and tolerance in Botswana.

And what are our rights?

I have the right to be loved by my parents.

Excellent. Our responsibilities.

I should be loving towards others.

Beautiful. Our rights again?

I have the right to feel safe and protected from abuse and v*olence.

Excellent.

Our responsibilities again?

I should be tolerant of other people and their beliefs.

Excellent. Our rights again?

I have the right to be...

Papa!

Thabiso!

Thabiso!

A very big round of applause for our Hector Lepodise for his 4,000 pula donation to the orphanage.

4,000 pula!

And Lucky Sesana LLB and Associates with a cheque for 1,000 pula.

Thank you.

I'm very happy sitting here with you. Very happy.

Mma Ramotswe.

There is a question I've been meaning to ask you for some time.

A very important question.

Yes, Mr Matekoni.

I want to ask you...

Do you remove the handbrake before you accelerate your little white van?

Are you supposed to do that?

It is very important.

If you do not do it, the van will definitely die.

I will definitely do that then.

I will do anything you ask.

Is it?

Would you perhaps marry me, then?

Anything except that.

Excellent. Good.

To the Number 1 Ladies' Detective Agency.

Thank you.

And thank you.

Number 1 Ladies' Detective Agency.

All will be well.

And all will be well.

Before we go home, there are certain expenses to be settled.

I need your signature before I pay them.

Very well.

This is for paper.

This is phone installation, answerphone installation, connection charge, call charges, and, so on, and what, what?

I am signing.

I am saying nothing.

And this is for the services of a secretary.

Although we haven't actually discussed the level of your wages.

So to save you strain, I have made my own decision.

Very well.

Let's see.

Secretary is free?

That is correct.

My calculation, after these agency expenses, is that we have solved five cases for a net profit of exactly nothing.

As long as you earn nothing, neither will I.

But when the Ladies' Detective Agency becomes the pride of Botswana, as it most surely will, then I will be the first to enjoy the fruits of our labours.

Thank you, mma.

And, may I say, that at the end of this first month, I have been happy with your work.

100%.

Mma...

This is very good news.

I am very grateful.

Don't get emotional.

I won't.

As with all important evidence, I thought it might be best to actually have it typed out properly, mma.

Although I had to do it quickly.

And on one typewriter only.

T ank you. I am ve y g ateful.

Thank you, Mma Makutsi. See you tomorrow.

Bye-bye to my number 1 ladies' detective. Bye-bye.

See you tomorrow.

The Ladies' Husband-Stealing Great Big Fat Agency You have come to the right place, Daddy Bapetsi.

You are a worm.

Get off with you!

You are the fattest tart in Gaborone!

Every hunch, every hint.

Or, in our case, every unc, every int.

We are now a detective agency.