I began this book believing that William Randolph Hearst's granddaughter Patricia Hearst would be able to provide some insight into her grandfather's life and character, as well as her family's idea of what happened to Thomas Ince. However, Ms. Hearst opened the book with a disclaimer that her grandfather was not much discussed by her family, and that with his having died before her birth, she could only speculate along with everyone else about what Mr. Hearst was like, and about what happened to Tom Ince.

In addition to having boring fictional characters and an uninteresting, unresolved plot line, this poorly-written book was filled with fictional, inaccurate stereotypes of actual people that are no longer alive to defend themselves. Were any of the real people Ms. Hearst wrote about still living today, she would have been liable to lawsuits for slander. Hearst and her co-author paint Marion Davies as a mean, conniving, stupid, ill-mannered floozy who was with Hearst strictly for his money. Every other reference I have ever read about Miss Davies spoke of her generosity and kindness, her fun-loving nature, and her deep admiration for Hearst. None of that appears in this novel. Ms. Hearst doesn't spare her grandfather an ugly treatment either; nor is she at all kind in describing the movie stars that filled San Simeon with gaiety, laughter, and good-natured hijinks. In addition to gratuitously trashing the reputations of the well-known people in this novel, Ms. Hearst and her co-author also get wrong the few well-established facts concerning Tom Ince's death.

Read Marion Davies' own book, "The Times We Had," or any of the numerous biographies of stars of the early motion picture days to get a picture of what Hearst and Davies were really like, and the facts and rumors that circulated after Tom Ince's death. Even the speculative movie "The Cat's Meow" will provide a somewhat more accurate view of the people and circumstances involved.

I hate this book. The writing style and flow of thoughts the authors composed were fragmented. Annoying characters like Marion the dipstick, made reading torturous especially since she's on like every page - "OOhh daddy poo!", talking in her damn baby drivel. The heroine, Catha Burke was soo bland. She never affected me in any kind of way so having to read about her as she pursued the investigation was a bore. This book doesn't resolve some of the main reasons for reading the story, like who killed Thomas Ince, and is mostly flashbacks of boring snobbish parties with a lost heroine going nowhere.

As a speculative story on the alleged events surrounding film producer Thomas Ince's death in 1924, it greatly disappoints, offering no clear or conclusive hypothesis and relying heavily on sleazy innuendo. It is rather sloppy on historical detail (e.g. Greta Garbo did not arrive in the U.S. until 1925, John Barrymore was in London rehearsing for Hamlet at the time of the alleged events.) What makes MURDER AT SAN SIMEON truly reprehensible, however, is its trivialization of the silent film era. Fascinating performers like Charlie Chaplin and John Gilbert are reduced to tabloid fodder. Poor Marion Davies comes off the worst here; Hearst and Biddle's hatchet job of her almost makes Welles's mockery of her in CITIZEN KANE seem complimentary. In order to fully appreciate and understand silent movies, watch films like THE GOLD RUSH and SHOW PEOPLE instead.