In the Company of Cheerful Ladies by Alexander McCall Smith Page B

going very quickly,” said Mma Ramotswe, as she looked at her watch. “I am ready for tea.”
    Mma Makutsi agreed. She had a slight tendency to stiffness if she sat at her desk too long, and so she rose to her feet and rocked from side to side for a few moments, stretching her arms up and down as she did so. Then she turned round to get her teapot
    off the shelf behind her desk.
    Mma Ramotswe looked up sharply when she heard the exclamation.
    “My new tea-pot!” said Mma Makutsi. “Have you seen my tea-pot?”
    “It was on that shelf,” said Mma Ramotswe. “Next to the files.”
    “It is not there any longer,” said Mma Makutsi. “Somebody has stolen it.”
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    “But who would steal it?” asked Mma Ramotswe. “Nobody has been in here since we locked up last.”
    “Well, where is it, then?” retorted her assistant. “Teapots don’t just walk. If it’s not here, then somebody has taken it.”
    Mma Ramotswe scratched her head. “Maybe Mr J.L.B. Matekoni took it to make himself some tea. He came in very early this morning—before I did. That must be what happened.”
    Mma Makutsi thought about this. It was just possible that Mr J.L.B. Matekoni had moved the tea-pot, but it seemed unlikely. If he had wanted to make himself tea, then surely he would have used the normal tea-pot which Mma Ramotswe used. And what was more, she could not remember ever seeing him make tea himself, which again made the explanation somewhat unlikely.
    Mma Ramotswe had now got up from her chair and was making her way to the door.
    “Let’s go and ask,” she said. “I’m sure that it will turn up. Teapots
    don’t just vanish.”
    Mma Makutsi followed her out into the garage workshop. Mr
    J.L.B. Matekoni, together with the two apprentices, was standingat the far side. He had in his hand a piece of an engine, and was pointing out something to the two young men, who were peering at the part with interest. As the two women came into the garage, he looked over in their direction.
    “Have you seen …” Mma Ramotswe began to call out, but then stopped. At the very same instant, she and Mma Makutsi had seen the tea-pot, sitting on top of an upturned oil drum.
    Mma Makutsi was smiling with relief. “There it is,” she said. “Mr J.L.B. Matekoni must have made tea, as you said.”
    She walked over to the oil drum and picked up the tea-pot, only immediately to replace it on the surface of the drum. Watching
    her, Mma Ramotswe instantly knew that something was very
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    wrong. She hurried over to join Mma Makutsi, who was standing in mute dismay, peering into the open top of the tea-pot.
    “Diesel oil,” Mma Makutsi muttered. “Somebody has filled it with diesel oil.”
    Mma Ramotswe bent down and sniffed at the tea-pot. The unmistakable smell of diesel was strong in her nostrils.
    “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Who has done this? Who has done this?”
    She turned and looked at the three men. They stood there, two of them looking puzzled and a third looking sheepishly down at his overalls.
    “Charlie!” shouted Mma Ramotswe. “You come over here right now! Right now!”
    Charlie sauntered over, accompanied by Mr J.L.B. Matekoni.
    “What is all this?” asked Mr J.L.B. Matekoni, wiping his hands on a piece of cotton lint. “What is all this fuss?”
    “He’s put diesel oil in my new tea-pot,” wailed Mma Makutsi. “Why did he do that?”
    There was a defensive note in Charlie’s voice. “I was draining a tank,” he explained. “I had nothing to catch the diesel. So I found that thing in the office and it was empty. I thought I’d use it. Don’t worry, I’ll wash it.”
    “Can’t you see it’s a tea-pot?” snapped Mma Ramotswe. “Can’t you see even that?”
    “It is not the usual tea-pot,” said Charlie defiantly. “The teapot
    we use does not look like that.”
    “That’s because it’s my new tea-pot,” interjected Mma Makutsi.
    “You stupid, stupid boy. You are more stupid than a cow.”
    Charlie bristled at the insult. “Don’t you call me stupid, Mma. Just because you got ninety per