No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency

After that, he had assumed that Mma Ramotswe would never remarry; that her brief and disastrous marriage to Note Mokoti, trumpeter and jazz aficionado, had persuaded her that marriage was nothing but a recipe for sorrow and suffering.

She had recently taken out a subscription to the Journal of Criminology (an expensive mistake, because it contained little of interest to her) but among the meaningless tables and unintelligible prose she had come across an arresting fact: the overwhelming majority of homicide victims know the person who kills them.

Ladies No. 1 Detective Agency Tears of the Giraffe by Alexander McCall Smith
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Mr. J.L. B. Matekoni, proprietor of Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors, found it difficult to believe that Mea Ramotswe, the accomplished founder of the No9. 1 ladies’ Detective Agency, had agreed to marry him.

The fly was ignored: a dog barded in the neighboring garden; a truck changed gear nosily on the road to the old airstrip.

It was at the second time of asking; the first posing of the question, which had required immense courage on his part, had brought forth a refusal—gentle, and regretful—but a refusal nonetheless.

It was at the second time of asking; the first posing of the question, which had required immense courage on his part, had brought forth a refusal—gentle, and regretful—but a refusal nonetheless.

She had recently taken out a subscription to the Journal of Criminology (an expensive mistake, because it contained little of interest to her) but among the meaningless tables and unintelligible prose she had come across an arresting fact: the overwhelming majority of homicide victims know the person who kills them.

After that, he had assumed that Mma Ramotswe would never remarry; that her brief and disastrous marriage to Note Mokoti, trumpeter and jazz aficionado, had persuaded her that marriage was nothing but a recipe for sorrow and suffering.

Why, he wondered, should a woman like that take on a man, when a man could prove to be difficult to manage once vows were exchanged and he had settled himself in her house?

Normally she would have brushed it away, but a thought had crossed her mind and it was developing deliciously.

She had recently taken out a subscription to the Journal of Criminology (an expensive mistake, because it contained little of interest to her) but among the meaningless tables and unintelligible prose she had come across an arresting fact: the overwhelming majority of homicide victims know the person who kills them.

After all, she was an independent-minded woman, with a business to run, and a comfortable house of her own in Zebra Drive.