With a half-grin, the beefy desk sergeant waved Cruz past and the pissy-looking receptionist didn’t even glance up. She had her hands full dealing with a skinny woman with bad teeth and straggly hair who kept demanding to see “her man.” Probably a guy in custody. No surprise there.

“Diego!” Cruz called him by the name his brother had used in high school.

They gave each other a quick man hug, then let go.

“Diego?” the burly sergeant mouthed, his foul mood turning to amusement. “Isn’t that the real name of Zorro? So where’s the mask and cape?” He made a Z in the air with an invisible sword.

“Or the Hispanic kid in that TV show for toddlers,” another voice chirped. “Run Diego Run.”

“It’s Go Diego Go!” another woman added. “I should know. I’ve got a two-year-old. Think I’ve seen every episode at least five times.”

“You don’t know what you started,” Montoya muttered to Cruz. “I go by—”

“Yeah, Detective, I know. I heard.” Cruz walked with him up the stairs. “I practically had to sell my firstborn to get to you.”

“You don’t have a firstborn.”

“Not that I know of,” he admitted. “So what is this place? A police station or a goddamned country club? Are you here to serve the people?”

Diego snorted. “Big case goin’ on.”

“I heard.” Cruz nodded. “The nun.”

Diego slid him a glance. “You don’t recognize the name?”

“Didn’t hear a name. You know, just the company line about ‘unidentified until next of kin has been notified.’”

“Oh.” Diego hesitated.

“What?”

Frowning, he checked his watch. “How ’bout I buy you lunch?”

Lunch? What the hell? “How about you tell the yahoo of a beat cop to give me my bike back?”

“You got it towed?”

“Hell, yeah, I did. Some screwup with the title. Cops seem to think it’s stolen. I bought it from a guy in Oregon last month. Clean title. But I don’t have the papers, and the tags expired.”

“That’s pretty easy to clear up.”

“Tell that to Officer Big Ass, I mean Burgess,” Cruz said sourly, thinking of the motorcycle cop who’d pulled him over. At least two-fifty, with a dark helmet and bad attitude, he’d been in Cruz’s grill from the get-go.

“Man, you must’ve really pissed him off.”

Cruz rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Speeding?”

Cruz lifted a shoulder. “Sixty-seven in a forty-five.”

“And then you gave the cop lip. Not smart, bro.” Diego had the gall to grin. “You’re in the Big Easy now, aren’t ya? And now you need my help.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“And I thought you just missed me.”

“Yeah, right.” Cruz glared at him. “Y’know, I was gonna look you up, see that new son of yours, but—”