Set against the backdrop of yellow journalism, notorious Hollywood scandals, banned corruption and a vibrant cultural war, Mystery At The Blue Sea Cottage tells the intriguing true criminal story of a beautiful dancer, actor and dishonest doctor.
1923 Month of January. Fritzie Mann, 20, went from home to a remote cottage by the sea and met a man whose identity she did not reveal to anyone. The next morning, the body of the beautifully and enchanting dancer, dressed as she was dressed, washed up on the secluded beach of Torrey Pines, her festive dress and wealth tossed on the sand.
The scene confused investigators. Was it suicide, murder, or accidental drowning? The autopsy raised more questions than it answered. However, the investigation revealed a scandalous secret and possibly a powerful motive for the murder.
After the suspect was arrested and charged with murder, an ambitious county attorney struggled with a high-ranking LA private counselor in the most sensational San Diego history, which was actively monitored throughout the country. The big question: What really happened at Blue Sea Cottage?
When the car stopped, Chase’s nine-year-old son Russell jumped out and disappeared over a rocky embankment leading to the beach. John Chase, a tall man with light brown hair, got out of the car into the fresh salt air. The accountant for the fruit packaging business was no stranger to him and the ideal climate. The Chases lived in Lemon Grove, a village east of San Diego, for a couple of years before John began working in the lemon groves of the San Fernando Valley. John started eating a sandwich. He was barely bitten when Russell ran back to the waterfront.
There’s a boy on the beach, Russell said. – He lies very quietly.
The edge of the waterfront blocked Chase’s view of the beach below. He climbed on the treadmill of the car to reach a higher point and saw a human form lying a few hundred feet near the surfboards. He told Russell to stay with his mother and walked towards the figure, still holding his sandwich.
Torrey Pines Beach, although a popular bathing spot, was abandoned on Monday at 12:30 p.m. The shore wind was strangely calm, the silence was broken only by a slight influx of breakers and the periodic roar of seagulls. Near the bottom of the waterfront, Chase passed by a dress of dark brown beads lying next to a mound of pebbles and weeds. The dress lay flat and stretched in a line towards the body, as if someone had dropped it and dragged it over the dry sand. As he approached the figure, he realized that it was not a boy but a young woman wearing only a pink silk plush knit and garters, dark brown silk socks, and satin pumps fitted to them.
Apparently, the dead woman was in her early twenties. She lay on her back parallel to the beach, ten or fifteen feet from the water’s edge, about an inch and a half soaked in moist sand, legs south toward La Jolla, legs close together and arms over her waist. Her dark, wet hair lay loose and dry, mixed with sand and kelp strings. Her bruised, partially open eyes looked up at the sky. Her tongue protruded between her teeth. A small bluish blue was visible on the right eyebrow. The sand near the body was smoothly washed away by the waves.
Chase went back down the road, the partially eaten sandwich still in his hand. He never finished it. He and Russell marked a passing car, asking the driver to stop at a garage on the way to Del Mar and call police.