She had two grocery sacks and was crying so hard she nearly tripped on the curb.”

I picked up the scrap of paper.

A street address was written across the top in dark pencil.

“Does she still live in that building?” I asked.

“I couldn’t tell you,” Pete said.

“There are only four units above the laundromat.

The landlord is an old plumber named Miller.”

I folded the paper into a small square and tucked it into my coat pocket.