"I am Koen Boulstridge." One question at a time, he supposed. "Part owner and day manager of this establishment. Do not feel as though you are being singled out; everyone is being questioned. Turning the lights on in your room was the easiest way to ensure your return, as I have already explained. And no, at the current moment, nothing has happened to Ricky."
Koen sighed, quietly. "You are not, by any means, our only 'high profile client'. Given the nature of this business, yes, Mr. Fletcher, I did decide to 'force' you to return. Now, if you will quit behaving like a drama queen and answer the very simple questions I'm asking you, we can finish up here and you can leave my office. ...However, we are requesting you remain in town until this situation is resolved."
Another sigh. "Look, Mister Fletcher. I don't want to be crass, rude, or threatening but the nature of this situation risks exposure of this brothel. It has been indicated to me that Ms. Friedmann has no qualms about divulging sensitive information to interested parties, should a client choose to leave town and fall out of contact. So, please. Sit. Answer my questions. We can deal with this like calm, rational adults."