The old man looked at the photo, and for the first time, tears welled in his eyes. “Can you bring it back?”

“Domnule Munteanu,” she said gently, “have you been sleeping well? Maybe you should see a doctor at the Colentina Hospital.”

The man leaned forward. His breath smelled of earth and old metal. “Doctor? No. I came to the police. Because a theft is a theft. And you are Secția 7 . You handle the cases no one else wants.”