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Recently I wrapped up the thirteenth and final (for now) book in the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency series, The Limpopo Academy of Private Detection and, in doing so, closed the book on a group of characters I’ve grown to love.  There’s Mma Precious Ramotswe, traditionally built lady, tea lover, and proprietress of the only private detective agency in Botswana.  Mma Grace Makutsi, her loyal (although sometimes a bit envious) secretary-turned-assistant-detective, and of course, Mma Makutsi’s pithy “talking” shoes.  Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni, the finest mechanic in Botswana, and Mma Ramotswe’s love interest.  And the side characters: Charlie and Fanwell, the two feckless apprentices serving under Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni; Mr. Phuti Radiphuti, Mma Makutsi’s love interest; the treacherous Violet Sephotho; sweet Motholeli and challenging Puso; mild Mr. Polopetsi; and of course, the indomitable Mma Potokwame.

The mysteries themselves are usually fairly mild, even a bit tepid – not nearly the intellectual puzzles expected from an Agatha Christie or Dorothy L. Sayers novel.  They’re background, more than anything else: they provide the stage on which the characters can act out their everyday dramas.  Indeed, the plots usually focus more on the lives of the characters, and their problems and encounters are far more interesting than the central mysteries.  When will Mma Ramotswe and Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni finally marry?  What about Mma Makutsi and Phuti Radiphuti?  Will Charlie ever show even the slightest bit of initiative – or will he forever be a stain on the good reputation of Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors?  And oh no, Mma Potokwame has brought by an entire fruitcake – what will she rope poor Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni into fixing for her now?

I have an odd little reading quirk: I’m a mystery monogamist.  I can’t seem to read two mystery series at the same time, so I’ll either wait to start a new series until I’ve finished the current one, or I’ll throw one completely over in favor of another.  (That’s what happened to Mma Ramotswe & co. when I discovered Maisie Dobbs.)  For a few weeks now, I’ve been itching to start reading the Flavia de Luce novels, but I was so deep into the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency that I decided to finish those first, and now that I have, I’m a little bit sad.  These people have become friends, and I’m going to miss them.

I’m going to miss Mma Makutsi’s shoes and their snarky commentary, not to mention the way they call her “Boss.”  I’m going to miss Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni’s musings on all things mechanical, and the way Mma Potokwame is completely dedicated to the orphans in her care, and the spirited arguments between Mma Makutsi and the apprentices.  And I’m especially going to miss Mma Ramotswe’s “traditionally built” wisdom, her ruminations on the power of tea to cure all ills (we have that in common), her incessant references to Clovis Andersen and his book The Principles of Private Detection, and especially her penchant for adding the phrase “That is well known” to her own statements of opinion, or else attributing common-sense quotes – which she makes up on the spot – to Sir Seretse Khama.

I wish that I could meander down the Gaborone street and pop by the detective agency – on donut day, of course.  Or that I could sit with Mma Ramotswe on her porch, savoring a cup of red bush tea and looking out at the pumpkins growing ripe and round in her garden.  But it’s nice to imagine that, somewhere, my friends are living their full, busy lives.  Mma Makutsi is shopping for shoes.  Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni is fruitlessly trying to convince Mma Potokwame to replace a piece of vintage machinery at the orphan farm.  Charlie is cruising for dates, and he’s dragged poor Fanwell along with him.  And Mma Ramotswe is sitting at her kitchen table, helping Motholeli and Puso with their homework while a big pot of stew bubbles nearby, her hands curled around her thirtieth cup of red bush tea of the day.