The Double Comfort Safari Club (No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency Series)
Alexander McCall Smith
Language: English
Pages: 240
ISBN: 0307277488
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
THE NO. 1 LADIES’ DETECTIVE AGENCY - Book 11
Fans around the world adore the best-selling No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency series and its proprietor, Precious Ramotswe, Botswana’s premier lady detective. In this charming series, Mma Ramotswe—with help from her loyal associate, Grace Makutsi—navigates her cases and her personal life with wisdom, good humor, and the occasional cup of tea.
Readers will agree that this touching and dramatic new installment in Alexander McCall Smith’s beloved and best-selling series is the finest yet. In this story, Precious Ramotswe deals with issues of mistaken identity and great fortune against the beautiful backdrop of Botswana’s remote and striking Okavango Delta.
Mma Ramotswe and Mma Makutsi head to a safari camp to carry out a delicate mission on behalf of a former guest who has left one of the guides a large sum of money. But once they find their man, Precious begins to sense that something is not right. To make matters worse, shortly before their departure Mma Makutsi’s fiancé, Phuti Radiphuti, suffers a debilitating accident, and when his aunt moves in to take care of him, she also pushes Mma Makutsi out of the picture. Could she be trying to break up the relationship? Finally, a local priest and his wife independently approach Mma Ramotswe with concerns of infidelity, creating a rather unusual and tricky situation. Nevertheless, Precious is confident that with a little patience, kindness and good sense things will work out for the best, something that will delight her many fans.
A Linguistic Geography of Africa (Cambridge Approaches to Language Contact)
The African Patriots: the Story of the African National Congress of South Africa
CHAPTER SIX HOW TO LOVE YOUR COUNTRY AGAIN PHUTI RADIPHUTI’S OPERATION took place on a Friday morning. Mma Makutsi spent the latter part of the afternoon at his bedside before being ushered out by a nurse and making her way home by minibus. She felt physically exhausted but also, curiously, elated: this came from sheer relief at the fact that Phuti was still alive, and also from the emotion that she had felt when he had taken her hand and held it tightly. That, she felt, could only be a
change of mind, some Road to Damascus improvement. At least Phuti was alive and well, by all reports firmly embarked on the road to recovery, and Mma Ramotswe could get on with the day’s activities without too much brooding and anxiety. Saturday was her favourite day of the week, and usually followed the same set pattern. There would be shopping to do at the Riverside Pick and Pay, one of the highlights of the week with important decisions to be made about vegetables and cuts of meat. The
expression—a look of anticipation that went far beyond anything one might normally expect. It was the look that one might see on the face of a child about to be given a treat, a look that spoke of sheer, uncomplicated pleasure and excitement. We lose that look, she thought, as we get older; we forget what it is like to be so thrilled. This, then, was the look of a woman who loved shoes. Mma Makutsi was attended to first. The boots were perfect, she said, and she would take them, or rather Mma
instructions from her. I should have advised him to get independent legal advice. I did not. It would not look good for me if there was a complaint.” “So it’s a mess?” “It’s a mess, Mma.” But she did not think it was. “Tell me, Rra: If you took that deed to the land registry, what would happen?” “It would be null and void. They would check it, and they would see the mistake. They would see that Mr. Kereleng does not have title to pass on the property in the deed. They would throw it out.”
It was all falling into place. “Mighty,” she said, “what if there were two Mma Ramotswes? Or two Mma Grants?” Mighty frowned. “Two Mma Ramotswes?” He stared at her, and then he put his hand to his cheek and stroked it. “Oh,” he said. Then, “Oh,” again. “Oh,” echoed Mma Ramotswe. She looked in his eyes. He was a sharp-witted man. He understood. But there was one final piece of the jigsaw to fit into place. “Can you think of another camp with an animal in its name?” Mighty answered quickly. “Our