You can’t see behind him, but a red stain on his collar catches your eye. Looks real recent, and more to the point, looks lip-shaped.
So maybe he’s having a romantic dinner in here with sacred wine. Well, you don’t especially care one way or the other about that, but the church might not be very happy with it.
Of course, for his type, romantic dinners have a tendency to be business opportunities. Maybe the sort of business he doesn’t want Emil Drake knowing about.
Well, may as well point out the stain and see how he reacts.
“You’ve got something on your collar,” you say, pointing right at it.
“Oh,” he says nonchalantly. “Well, no time to deal with it. I’ve got to get going. Emil Drake is rarely a patient man.”
He walks right past you, and shuts the door behind him without another word. You can’t get a read on him at all. He didn’t seem ashamed or anything, but he did close the door.
It’s not locked, though. Maybe the dinner wasn’t meant to be a secret? Or maybe it was just an oddly-shaped wine spill.
Well, you could go poking around, but you wonder if you wouldn’t be better served going back to Drake’s place to see if you can eavesdrop on their conversation.