The Detective was now sitting on the desk with his whiskey in his hand when Father Miles entered.
“Ah Father, would it be rude of me to say that you drink alcohol?” The Detective greeted him.
“Not at all. And before you ask no I am not a fan of whiskey.”
“Shame.” The Detective put down his whiskey flask, “What type of alcohol do you like?”
“Port is to my taste Detective, if you wish to know.”
“I very clearly wish to know as on that night you sat down with Colonel Jefferson, with all your port, whiskey and red wine...”
“Who was drinking the red wine?” Father Miles interrupted the Detective.
“Major Jones,” The Detective said clearly.
“Major Jones was drinking whiskey, not red wine,” Father Miles said. The Detective jotted something down on his notepad before Father Miles continued, “There were two whiskey’s and my port at the table that night. Except only to a glass of water for the Colonel.”
“Ah yes, the glass of water. Who got the Colonel his sleeping pill?” The Detective inquired,
“I did. I went over to the shelf, took the pill out of the packet and brought it to the Colonel with a glass of water.”
“Did the Colonel drink or eat anything else?”
“When the drinks were empty what did you do with them?” The Detective asked.
The Father let out a little chuckle before he spoke, “We put them to one side. I know that action must not be very familiar to you Detective.”
“Unlike most people I drink for a reason,” The Detective interjected, “Alcohol is a foul substance but God save us, it is far better than the rest of this awful place.”
“I see you’re not a religious man, Detective Hunt.” Father Miles stated.
“I investigate murders for a living father, not strange unexplained misdoings by falsely believed in and falsely worshipped beings that choose not to manifest themselves into any sort of logical, functioning form. God’s, deity’s, spirit′s, wraith′s, ghost′s. What a bunch of guff.” There was a slight pause in the conversation.
“The Colonel did lock all the doors in the house,” Father Miles started, “I heard the conversation between him and the Major. He went round locking every room before locking himself in his own room. I can assure you that it was no being of any sort.”
“And were there many beings of a kind walking the halls that night? Perhaps they were cleaning up your unwashed glasses, sweeping the halls, having a game of chess?” The Detective said sarcastically.
“All I meant was it was not haunted,” Father Miles stated simply.
“Haunted?” The Detective continued a bit confused, “Was that the Colonel’s complaint?”
“I believe so,” Father Miles replied, “He would not tell us what made him think it was haunted. But that was his general complaint, yes.”
“And nothing of the haunted nature happened while you were there?” The Detective asked firmly.
“There was not even a half played game of chess in the morning” Father Miles replied.