A society columnist is sitting on the biggest story of the century, but he can't write a word about it. James is a Mike Hammer wannabe private eye stuck writing a newspaper society column. His imagination is the only thing keeping him sane through the endless shallow events his boss makes him cover. Until one day his luck changes.But he'd bet a month's salary the poor chump who just got murdered isn't feeling so lucky. This wasn't just any murder, no siree. The whole thing smells hinkier than the seven-day-old sushi in the back of James' fridge. Things don't add up--not if you're from planet earth.And hold on to your X Files, there's a goodlooking dame in it up to her baby blues.