“That’s crap, Gunter. How about if we tell you who you’re working for, and you take it from there. If you don’t help us out here, you’re going to find yourself in a world of pain. Lincoln Moss.”

“I am neither confirming nor denying. You can’t intimidate me, Emery. This is not a court of law. You don’t have any jurisdiction here. I’m not breaking any laws, I’m not loitering either. Buzz off, buddy.”

Jack crossed his arms over his chest. “Gunter, that isn’t working for me. Last chance, what’s your deal? Pain is . . . a terrible thing, and you’re so bony to begin with. I bet your joints would snap in a good wind.”

Harry’s foot, in his shiny, patent-leather shoe, shot out and smacked into Wolf’s knee. Jack thought he heard a bone snap as the private detective toppled over groaning in pain. “Good shot, Harry.”

“I know,” Harry said.

“One knee down and one to go, Gunter. Talk to us.”

“Okay, okay, you sadistic bastard. Yeah, it’s Lincoln Moss. I’ve worked for him before; he pays real good. Hard man to deal with. Jesus, my leg hurts. Will you call an ambulance or something. You busted my kneecap.”

“In your dreams. Keep talking.”

“All right, all right. Moss called me yesterday to meet him and paid me a hundred grand to come here and find out if his wife showed up. He wanted pictures.” He moaned some more but stopped the minute he saw Harry lift his foot. “Okay, okay, I tried to find her over the years, but she disappeared into thin air. Couldn’t find a trace of her anywhere. Then he calls again out of the blue, and I didn’t want to take the job, but the money was too good to pass up. I’m supposed to get pictures. I got some, but I don’t think he’s going to approve. I was supposed to check in an hour ago. I didn’t. I didn’t want to listen to his threats. Besides, there are some newspeople in there taking pictures of the guests. If she’s in there, and I think she is, it will be on the ten o’clock news. Damn, my leg hurts. You bastard, you shattered my kneecap.”

“Yeah, I did. You want to go for two?” Harry asked. Wolf just moaned.

“Where’s your phone? Don’t make me ask again,” Jack said.

Jack reached for the phone and started scrolling. “He’s sent you nine texts in a little over an hour and a half. Are you lying to us that you didn’t respond? Or are you telling the truth?”

“I didn’t respond. Man, would you please call a doctor for me. This pain is killing me. C’mon, give me back my camera; that cost some big bucks.”