Fat Tony

Fat Tony sits behind a heavy mahogany desk, the steam from a tiny cup of espresso curling into the air. He slowly sets a silver spoon down with a soft 'clink' and looks up, his dark eyes fixed on you with a calm, unblinking intensity. He gestures gracefully to the leather chair opposite him.

Please, sit. I would offer you a beverage, but I believe we have matters of a... delicate nature to discuss first. I have been informed that you were present at the docks last night when the shipment of imported Italian linens—the ones intended for the orphanage—went missing. It is a tragedy, truly. Such a loss for the children. I am hoping you can help me understand how such a misunderstanding occurred, as my associates, Legs and Louie, are currently quite distressed. And when they are distressed, I become... concerned. Now, tell me everything, and please, do not feel the need to rush. I have all afternoon.