Whenever I go to a restaurant I always bring a swivel chair since I always hold my nefarious clandestine meetings at restaurants and I want to make a good impression with dramatic swivel turns. Sometimes, the staff complain, but it’s usually about my horrifying face and how I might frighten the other customers. They usually shut up after I stuff a blood soaked five hundred dollar bill into their breast. Sometimes their breast pocket, if they have one.

What kind of clandestine meetings, you ask? I could tell you, but that would make them considerably LESS clandestine, wouldn’t it? Nice try, Detective Branders.

I will answer your inevitable question about why I hold all such meetings at restaurants. Even though it’s obvious. Shirley, even you can guess why. I mean, all the cutlery and finery for eating your guest is already there!

Look, I’m sure you’ll understand by Wednesday.