That she did not want, and so the decision to walk to work was duly announced to Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni.

“That is very good,” he said. “If people walked to work, then they would save a lot of petrol. There would also be fewer cars on the road and not so many traffic jams.”

“And less work for mechanics?” added Mma Ramotswe.

Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni shook his head. “There is always enough work for mechanics,” he said. “Even if everybody walked, there would still be machines to go wrong.” He thought for a moment. “And there will always be work for mechanics fixing the bad work that other mechanics have done.”

They looked at one another. There was no doubt about his meaning; he was forever repairing the mistakes of his apprentices, as he had recently told Mma Ramotswe. She said nothing. She was hoping that he would not say anything about the tiny white van; she would confront that problem later. There would be some solution-perhaps a discreet visit to another garage, where the van might be fixed without Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni's ever knowing about it. It was even possible that the noise might disappear of its own accord; some engine noises were intermittent, the result of an occlusion of a fuel pipe, perhaps, a tiny piece of grit in the wrong place-there were many innocent explanations. With any luck, this would be the case with the current noise; one never knew with vehicles, as with life in general.

She left home in good time. The journey from Zebra Drive to the offices of the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency, shared with Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors, took about ten minutes or less by car, but on foot it would take at least forty minutes. Mma Ramotswe decided to allow an hour, although it would not matter too much if she took longer; her first appointment, with Mr. Molofololo, was not until eleven o'clock, and there would not be much to do before then. Mma Makutsi would have collected the mail, such as it was, and done whatever filing was left over from yesterday.