The house on Cromwell Avenue was waiting for a new owner. It stood vacant in the hills of Los Feliz, freshly available to anyone with the money to purchase a view, privacy and a piece of postwar Los Angeles. On Valentine’s Day 1948, real-estate saleswoman Gladys Kern arrived with a key and an appointment.
She expected to be home that evening. Kern and her husband were due at a wedding, and she had left him a note reminding him to get dressed. Nothing about the day suggested a disappearance, much less the beginning of one of the city’s strangest unsolved murder investigations.
The house remained quiet through the weekend. By Monday morning, Kern’s family had reported her missing and another salesman was preparing to show the Cromwell Avenue property. Somewhere downtown, however, a letter was already drawing police toward a large, curly-haired man who supposedly looked like a boxer.
Its anonymous author claimed to know what had happened inside the empty house. He described a killer, a witness and a sudden act of violence—but the story may have been less an attempt to solve the crime than the first move in ensuring it never would be.