"Across the street."
"Yes, ma'am."
She set it down and pulled her keyboard toward her and typed for a while, fast, with two fingers, frowning at the screen.
"Curtis A. Lyle," she said. "Complainant, Southeast District, July 2024, Fender guitar, recovered from Brandt's Strings, Thames Street, released to complainant August 2024." Typing. "Kevin P. Dunleavy. Complainant, Southeast, March 2025, Rolex Datejust, recovered from Ocampo Pawn, Eastern Avenue, released to complainant April 2025." Typing. "Baltimore County's a different system, I'll have to call. Asante, Asante." Typing. "Michael J. Prentiss. Central District, June 2025, oil painting, recovered from Asante Frame, released." She sat back. "Different names. Different addresses. Lyle lived in Canton. Dunleavy in Federal Hill. Prentiss in Bolton Hill. All nice neighborhoods. All rear-door burglaries while the owner was out of town."
"And now Dennis Carrow on Upland Road," Ray said.
"Who also had a rear-door burglary while he was out of town." She was quiet a moment. "And I'm going to guess that if I send somebody to Upland Road this afternoon, there's going to be a house there with a back door, and nobody named Carrow is going to have lived in it for longer than a short-term rental."
"Can you do that?"
"I can do a lot of things, Officer Dombrowski." She looked at him over her glasses. "The question is whether I can do them before two o'clock."
"He's coming in at two."
"I heard." She picked up her phone. "Who's the woman? The one with the list."
"Nadia Brandt. Gus Brandt's daughter. She's a records clerk at the Circuit Court."
"Of course she is." Ruiz dialed. "Of course she is. The one person in this city who reads the dockets." She held up one finger to Ray as the call connected. "Ms. Brandt? This is Detective Ana Ruiz, Baltimore Police, Property Crimes. Officer Dombrowski gave me your number. I need to ask you some questions about your father's guitar, and I need to ask them fast."
* * *
Nadia took the call in the stairwell of the Clarence M. Mitchell Jr. Courthouse with her back against the cold marble, and when it was done she called Ocampo Pawn & Loan.
Rosario Ocampo had a big voice and a lot of background noise, and when she told him who she was and why she was calling, the background noise stopped, as though he'd put his hand over the phone, or as though everyone in his shop had turned to listen.