CHAPTER SEVEN
When Jessie pulled up in front of the mansion on Lucerne Blvd. at 2:29 a.m., there were already multiple police cars, an ambulance, and a medical examiner’s vehicle out front. She got out and walked toward the front door, trying to look as professional as possible under the circumstances.
Neighbors stood on the sidewalk, many wrapped up in robes to protect against the chill of the night. This sort of thing wasn’t typical for a wealthy neighborhood like Hancock Park. Nestled between Hollywood to the north and the Mid-Wilshire district to the south, it was an enclave of old money Los Angeles; or at least as “old money” as anything in a city so unconcerned with historical tradition could be.
The people who lived here weren’t so much the movie stars or Hollywood moguls one mig
