My name is Ellroy J. Highsmith, I edit the tabloid know as the National Inquisitor.

The current crop of Hollywood stars hate me and the paparazzi I descend upon them. People read this rag at checkout counters across America and believe every word they see in print as fact. Gotta love the gullible, without them I’d be poor as a church mouse.

I have on my payroll staff members at the swankiest hotels and spas and restaurants in the whole state of California, and a few in the Big Apple in case any of those snobby theatre people should cause a scandal (as if).

I got a call from one of my informants about a pop star that over dosed in her hotel room less than an hour ago. I often get the call before the corpse even hits the floor. (Yeah ,I pay that much for the details and misdeeds of the rich and infamous.)

Crafty Chandler, my number one informant called and left a message, “Get over to the Biltmore ASAP , this is the story of the century. O yeah, I want a raise.”
This better be good, I thought.