Bosch knew the Pacific Dining Car was a longtime favorite with LAPD brass and the Robbery-Homicide Division. He also knew something else.

“Twelve bucks for a plate of eggs. I guess that means this is an overtime-approved squad.”

Rider smiled in confirmation.

“You got that right. But you wouldn’t have been able to finish your fancy eggs anyway, once you got the forthwith from the chief.”

“You heard about that, huh?”

“I still have an ear out on six. Did you get your badge?”

“Yeah, he gave it to me.”

“I told him what number you’d want. Did you get it?”

“Yeah, Kiz, thanks. Thanks for everything.”

“You already told me that, partner. You don’t need to keep saying that.”

He nodded and looked around their space. He noticed that on the wall behind Rider was a photo of two detectives huddled beside a body lying in the dry concrete bed of the Los Angeles River. It looked like a shot from the early fifties, judging by the hats the detectives wore.

“So, where do we start?” he asked.

“The squad breaks the cases up in three-year increments. It provides some continuity. They say you get to know the era and some of the players in the department. It overlaps. It also helps with identifying serials. In two years they’ve already come up with four serials nobody ever knew about.”

Bosch nodded. He was impressed.

“What years did we get?” he asked.

“Each team has four or five blocks. Since we’re the new team we got four.”

She opened the middle drawer of her desk, took out a piece of paper and handed it across to him.

Bosch studied the listing of years for which they would be responsible. He had been out of the city and in Vietnam for most of the first block.