11. Scumbag Guilt

DS Gavin Handiman had the surprise of his life when his immediate boss and real life friend, DI Glumpy, suggested he checked on the Scumbag boys.

“What’s up, sir?” he asked, maintaining formality because at work the DI was the boss and it seemed only fair to call him sir. whereas in the pub after office hours he was always Ian.

“It’s the darned vicar business,” replied his DI, “the odd bank robbery that went wrong and never was. It seems that everybody questions whether the vicar should be on remand because it’s possible that he would never do any such thing as rob a bank and, Gavin, I have the Bishop here making sure that I do my job properly. And he’s got his foot in the Chief’s door by all accounts.”

“I was unhappy myself,” admitted Handiman, “but I wasn’t on the case, if you recall. You had me chasing those burglaries on Harp Street.. But I got the impression that Dedbeat was a bit on the quick side when he sent the Scumbag lads off into the street and leapt on the vicar, sort of job done and dusted attitude, with more than an eye on promotion.”

DI Glumpy nodded a little guiltily. “And I was too quick accepting his story, but in all honesty the vicar didn’t help himself. He had guilty written all over his face and couldn’t answer a single question without blathering about underpants. And in my book when a suspect is like that during his interview he’s just got to be as guilty as Hell even if he is the local clergyman.”

“Word on the street is those who go to his church are upset. They say no way could he even think of stealing his neighbour’s window cleaning loose change from the window sill let alone the Bugle Bank.” murmured the DS.

“Well, the Scumbag lads were in the bank and from his report it seems that Dedbeat didn’t even ask them why they were there. Have a word with him first, tell him there’s only one kind of thing we accept in this nick and that’s the truth. Then go and rattle the Scumbags. If they didn’t have an evil reason for being in the bank I’d be truly surprised.”

“Got you, sir,” grinned the DS and he wandered off in search of the DC whilst his immediate superior returned to his office and their prisoner. “Well, Reverend,” he said, “you’ve got us all scratching our heads. Why were you so vague when I questioned you on the day of the attempted robbery? In fact, it didn’t seem possible that you hadn’t tried to hold up the bank! And no, with the help of the charming Mrs Dresden we could see there might well be a quite different story.”

“I was confused. I didn’t know what was going on and a bag of fifty pound notes came from nowhere and I needed a ten pound note to pay for my y-fronts…”

“Well, Reverend,” he said, “you’ve got us all scratching our heads. Why were you so vague when I questioned you on the day of the attempted robbery? In fact, it didn’t seem possible that you hadn’t tried to hold up the bank! And yet, with the help of the charming Mrs Dresden and your Bishop we’ve got to see the situation in a very different light.”

“So why was I incarcerated?” asked Barney Pickle, “Why was I locked up with a whole lot of men who have done wicked things?”

“You heard the prosecution case whilst you were being sentenced in the magistrate's court,” the DI told him, “the truth, your reverence, is that you made yourself both look and sound as guilty as you could. You failed to mention that there were other customers in the bank, that is two teenage lads who are known to be trouble, and that they were the ones holding up what has been described as a silly pamphlet with a gun drawn on it and demanding money from the employees at the bank. In fact, you never disputed the statement from the prosecution that you were the only customer in the bank and thus the only person who could be accused of the hold up!”

“I’m sorry. I was confused, that’s all. And those lads were sent out by a policeman and he must have known what he was doing.”

“Well, sir, we’ve decided to look at it again, but that’s going to take some time and until we’ve done that it’s back to Brumpton Gaol for you. I’m sorry and just hope the court sees sense and decides to re-examine the case with new evidence, but until then it’ll be locks and bars for you, I’m afraid.”

At that moment and before Barney could protest his innocence once again the Bishop returned to the office.

“Quite a decent cup of tea in your canteen, Inspector,” he boomed, ”now have we decided that a dreadful mistake has been made and can the Reverend Pickle return to his parish forthwith?”

“Soon, sir, I hope,” replied the DI.

“Soon, you say? That doesn’t sound like forthwith at all! And down in the canteen I’ve had a pleasant chat with Mrs Dresden, Pickles’s highly intelligent and, may I say, very attractive lady with a duster! And you can take my word for it, Inspector, ladies like her know more about the men they work for than any policeman will ever learn. And she says he couldn’t gave dreamed of robbing a bank let alone actually doing it, and that’s good enough for me!”

Meanwhile, Detective Sergeant Handiman was standing at the gate to the Scumbag home and snorting to himself. Why, he asked himself, do people like this family have to decorate their small front garden patches with old white goods, like that fridge that’s lying on its side just feet away from where I’m sanding? And why, a second question formed in his head, can’t they keep their net curtains as clean as his were? After all, nothing is easier than keeping home looking decent, is it?

So he walked down the garden path, and knocked on the door with a fierce fist. If he had to touch the soiled paintwork it would be just the once so it had better be heard.

It was a teenage boy who opened the door and stood there, gawping. Handiman flashed his warrant card in front of his eyes and barked “It’s just about lunch time so are your parents up yet, laddie?”

A female voice came squawking from an inside room, “who’s that at at the door then, our Gozza?” it asked.

“It’s the cops, ma,” he replied.

“Now what you and Jed done now, then?”

“Nowt ma,”

“Then tell him to bugger off. We don’t want no cops around here!”

The DS shuddered. This was exactly the kind of greeting he had been expecting, and then he noticed something on the floor, something that told a story he really wanted to read.

It was an illustrated religious text, and drawn in black felt tip ink all over the cover was a realistic image of a rather fierce looking gun.

“Gozza, you say? Where’s Jed?” asked the DS.

“With his bird at her place. Prob’ly in bed wearing out his you know what,” sniggered Gozza.

“I ask, laddie, because you and he are under arrest.” Then, louder, he shouted, “Did you hear that, Ma Scumbag? Your lads are arrested and likely to end up in gaol before the day’s over, and they might need someone adult to sit with them down the nick. Would you say you were adult, Mrs Scumbag, or shall we find someone who is?”

© Peter Rogerson 08.04.24