The Cincture That Binds (Pawn Takes Bishop------Mate!)

As Ramona tells it, the bishop called the convent/brothel, demanding to talk directly to “Signore Yarez.”

“ Pedro was a bit angry on the phone saying only, ‘Señor, we will do what we can.’ It seems someone had recommended Francesca and me to the bishop for a special act he preferred. But Felix Culpa had called maybe ten minutes early, and Pedro had promised us to him as a sign of high friendship, a point of honor with Pedro.

No sooner had Pedro left to grab a tequila at the bar down the street, then Bassanni burst in the door of the convent, demanding to have Francesca and me pointed out to him. He grabbed us roughly by the arms and pushed us down the hallway, ordering us into an empty room.

Once in the room, he pushed us to the corner and told us to ‘divest.’ He had to explain that he meant for us to take off our clothes. While we did this, he produced from his coat pocket a long, white, braided rope [ note: This is called a “cincture” and is tied around a priest’s waist when vested for Mass.] and tossed it to us. We had heard what we thought was every request, but this was new: As he lay on the bed, he wanted one of us to tie the rope tighter and tighter around his throat, cutting off more and more of his breathing and blood, while the other manipulated his sexual part.
At the last moment we were to loosen the rope, resulting in an added rush to his orgasm.

This we were doing: Francesca tied and tightened the rope while I did the massaging. The bishop was getting closer and closer to climax, when suddenly the door swung open, making a horrific din, and in rushed Pedro and Felix along with half of the employees and clientele of the evening. As Pedro began to yell and swing a small revolver in the air, he suddenly clutched his chest and fell to the ground, the gun firing into the floor. Everyone, including Francesca and I, rushed to Pedro’s assistance. All efforts to revive him proved fruitless. To this day I remember the slow “blueing” of his lips. We were all crying for this truly gentle man, when someone, I don’t know who, yelled “The bishop!!” We had completely forgotten about him. His face was completely ashen, the vein in his neck having burst, blood all over. We loosened the rope, but it was far too late. The only irony was he had achieved what he wanted: down around his sexual organ was residue of an ejaculation (Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!)

We heard the sound of police sirens drawing closer. (The rectory housekeeper had heard the shot and called 911.) Felix was in a state of panic. Explaining he was in the country illegally and wanted by the authorities in Italy, he asked for help avoiding the police. Francesca showed him the exit through the sanctuary of the church next door and he was gone. We never saw him again. I swear! They saw him at the school’s rehearsal the next afternoon. But he was standing in the stairway, and then he was gone. No one saw him leave. We expected to meet up with him at the estate, but he never showed.”



(This account varies greatly from the report Ramona filed with the Chicago Police, many of whom were frequent guests at the establishment. The official report had Bishop Bassanni committing suicide at the “Retreat Center.” The Archdiocese of Chicago, as well as the Bishopric in Italy, both already weary from widespread clergy scandals, did not dispute the findings.)



There was a brief memorial service for the bishop at St. Joseph's, following which his body was shipped back to Italy, where he was buried near the Cathedral in Calabria. People on both sides of the Atlantic pretty much said " good riddance."All except for Maxine, who was not quite ready to say good bye.