5. The Bishop’s Demand

A Chapter by Peter Rogerson

The Bishop is curious and wants to see the Reverend Barney Pickle

DI Ian Glumpy was troubled and he knew that he had every reason to feel that way. There had been a message that Bishop Pyke was on his way, whilst at the same time his own boss, the Superintendent, was supervising his wife as she gave birth to twins in the Maternity ward at Brumpton General hospital so he, a mere detective Inspector had assumed temporary responsibility for the station and it was well known that Bishop Pyke could be a headache as well as being well in with the Chief Constable.

And he guessed that the Bishop was calling on the Brumpton station because it had come to his notice that one of the clergy under his control was not only in prison but was accused of bank robbery, and there was, in his mind, nothing worse than robbing banks. Not even forming a physical and loving relationship with choirboys was worse than that because love was love and love was his god. That was his mantra and it made beautiful sense to him, choirboys or no choirboys.

A limousine worth thousands pulled up in the station car park, actually nuzzling into the Superintendent’s personal space marked with the moral SUPERINTENDENT P WILLIAMS, KEEP CLEAR in bold white paint..

And the Bishop, important as he thought he was, most certainly didn’t have as many imaginary pips as did the Superintendent. And if he, the Super, chanced to call by in order to receive noisy. congratulations on the birth of his twins then he would raise all sorts of comments about the quality of ecclesiastic parking and their inability to read properly painted signs. And he, DI Glumpy would be at the sharp end of the most piercing barbs for letting the offence to be committed.

Best, then, to tackle the visitor as soon as he could. First he shouted an order to Detective Constable Dedbeat.

“I say laddie,” he bawled, not too loud lest the Bishop had ultra acute hearing, “go and guide the god-botherer away from the Super’s spot out there, and then invite him in.”

“Yes, sir,” muttered the constable half-heartedly because he guessed he was on a loser, and he made his way out of the side door. The Bishop had already parked, though, his limousine obscuring the notice concerning whose parking spot it was.

Constable Dedbeat was often quite stupid, but this time a glimmer of understanding found its way past whatever it was that sometimes blocked his acquaintance with logic, and he smiled at the Bishop.

“I’m to direct you to the DI’s office, sir,” he said with what he hoped was something like a warm smile.

“I’m here to interview the superintendent,” growled Bishop Jossop Pyke in his haughtiest voice, which after half a lifetime spent denouncing sin from the pulpit was very haughty indeed.

“He’s having twins, sir,” explained Dedbeat, “I mean, his wife is and he’s helping her,”

“He’s been breeding, eh? Darned animal behaviour and should be outlawed! Better take me to the next in line, then.” complained the good Bishop, and Dedbeat had enough sense to lead him into the building and up the single flight of stairs to Inspector Glumpy’s office.

Dedbeat escorted the Bishop into the room and the DI, pretending to be surprised, looked up sharply as if he was going to bawl a junior officer out for interrupting him at work and leapt to his feet as if he hadn’t been expecting the bishop at all.

“Sit down, man!” shouted the Bishop, “and tell me what you’ve done to the Reverend Pickle!”

“Ah, a delicate matter. Dedbeat here arrested him in Bugle bank. A nasty business I’m afraid, Robbing the place, he was, holding the whole damned place up with with a bible comic book made to look like a sawn off shot gun!”

“What nonsense is this?” roared the Bishop, “there was never a more decent ad straightforward man as Pickle! I’ve known him since he was a boy soprano and have quite taken to him!”

“He was caught red-handed,” put in constable Dedbeat, “with his hands in a bag of fifty pound notes, though he said he was there to draw a tenner he didn’t have out of an account that was bone dry!”

“Then your eyesight is failing you, laddie!” roared the Bishop. “I know young Pickle, I do. He’d never so much think of stealing from the bank as he’d plan to fly to the moon, so you can stop your tales and bring him to me from wherever it is you’re hiding him! At Once!”

“I’m afraid he’s in Brumpton Prison for his sins,” explained the DI, “and it wasn’t me or the super who sent him there, but the magistrate in court who weighed all the evidence up and looked at the case most scrupulously, before remanding him to prison while he was awaiting trial at the county court. And we can’t say fairer than that.”

“And you say he had a paper pistol? A comic book thingy? What arrant nonsense is that? Do you think I’m a fool!” The Bishop was showing signs of possibly being on his way to having a heart attack or some equally serious seizure, judging from the colour of his face as he roared at the two officers, and they were visibly shaking under the onslaught.

“He also had a rolling pin,” explained the constable, trying to stabilize the situation.

“What was he expecting to do? Make apple pies with puff pastry?” demanded the Bishop.

“It was a very convincing shot gun and it was a work of your faith that was disguised as one, an illustrated edition of your bible” stammered the DI. “But if you wish to speak to Pickle I can arrange a visit for you…”

“Are you trying to tell me I have to tread the soiled corridors of His Majesty’s Brumpton gaol?” demanded the bishop, “as if I would ever go to any such a place… No, sir, if I’m to see Pickle, and I do believe I must, then I will have him brought here! And within the hour, if you don’t mind, or your Chief Constable will want to know why not!”

“But, sir, that’s irregular,” stammered the DI.

“Irregular or not, just you see to it! I’ll pop across the road to the chip shop restaurant, arm myself with a nice piece of cod and chips, and expect to see Pickle on my return!”

The DI visibly drooped. His expression might have been read as a curse at his Superintendent’s absence and his pregnant wife’s imminent condition, but instead he reached for the phone. and asked for Brumpton Prison.