At a little after eight that same morning, Daisy Valentine walked the half mile down from her ridge house to The Beachwood Canyon village, a cluster of five quaintly hip shops cradled just below the Hollywood sign. She picked up a Hollywood Pulse from a stack of already-read newspapers loosely scattered on a front window ledge inside the Village Café. The casually trendy diner was peopled with local mid-scale movie industry peeps who liked their eggs yolk-free, their bacon fat-free, their toast gluten-free and their coffee organic.
Daisy took it to a seat at the counter, where she ordered a cappuccino and a donut with rose petals in the glaze. Her nod to the waitress was nominal. She was a regular but not really. Cordial but not chatty. Opening the pulse, she scanned the ads and found one for a local landscaper: “Bernardo’s brush clearance and Landscaping.” She circled it.
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