A Hole In One by Paul Weininger (10 best books of all time txt) 📕

Contents

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

Thirty

Thirty-One

Thirty-Two

Thirty-Three

Thirty-Four

Thirty-Five

Thirty-Six

Thirty-Seven

Thirty-Eight

Thirty-Nine

Forty

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

About the Author

A HOLE

IN

ONE

Paul Weininger

A Hole in One

© Paul & Helen Weininger, 2020

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

For permission requests, contact the author at:

Bandy Publishing

P.O. Box 433

Oaks, PA 19456

First Edition

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, incidents,

organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products

of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally.

ISBN: 9798734239834

Editor: Hugh Gardner

Printed in the United States of America.

For my wife, Helen,

the love of my life.

One

It was 10:00 a.m. in front of the synagogue when the first bullet struck the Rabbi’s left shoulder. The second bullet broke two ribs and caused one of his lungs to collapse resulting in immediate respiratory failure: causing him to fall hard to the ground. In the ambulance, he heard someone say, “He has a pneumothorax as a result of the gun shot and we’ll have to aspirate him,” and then he passed out. As his lungs received some air, he snapped up for a moment and heard the EMT say, “The aspiration did the trick in getting his breathing and his color back to normal. We’ll operate inside.” Rabbi Neil Bloom realized that he was alive, then fell into dreaming of a sermon he had given at the synagogue.

When he awoke in the recovery room three hours later, Carol was sitting in the chair next to his bed just as his surgeon, Dr. Shapiro, arrived. All he could recollect from the operation was his being told by the doctor, “Rabbi, the big guy upstairs must’ve been on your side today, because you’re going to be just fine in about one to two months.”

Shapiro had saved his life. “We extracted the bullets from your shoulder. We also repaired and re-inflated your lung and you will heal normally within a few weeks. Your ribs will heal by themselves but will take more time and will hurt whenever you cough or sneeze. So, don’t cough or sneeze,” he said with a smile. “We should be able to release you to go home by the end of the week. But,” he emphasized, “none of your Rabbinical services for at least six weeks. Just bed rest for now until I see you again for your follow-up visit. Be sure to make an appointment with my nurse before you leave the hospital once I release you.”

Nurse Lucy Warner told the Rabbi that Detectives Pratt and Sommerville were waiting patiently outside the recovery room to talk to him. He asked the nurse to tell the detectives that he was still in a deep sleep and probably would be for another two hours.

Carol was in his room and he wanted to hug and kiss her so badly because she was not only his friend and frequent companion, but his mistress as well; he was thrilled to see her again, having survived the surgery.

Her husband, Jules Jacobson, was a weekly congregant of the synagogue and twenty-three-years older than Carol. He had spent twenty-five years as a broker, having started with another brokerage office and when he thought he could steal some of their potential buyers, he opened his own business called Heaven’s Resorts Real Estate in Sedona. He had built it up over nineteen years, but as more youthful agents began moving in, his office became just one of thirteen such offices in and around town. With new competition having taken over most of the real estate openings, his business went into Chapter Seven. With the demise of his business, he attempted to take some of the other real estate broker’scustomers. Jules wasn’t the most scrupulous businessman in the city, and when the other agents found out what he was doing, the Real Estate Commission of Arizona blackballed him. As a result, he couldn’t even get a job brokering for another agency. Money soon became an issue for the couple, but Carol told him not to worry because she would figure out how to deal with it.

Bloom couldn’t believe that Jules had no idea of their sexual relationship and their love for each other. However, the bullets in his body made him wonder if Jules did know about their relationship. What other motive could there be for somebody shooting him at his own front door?

Carol Jacobson was twenty-four and had the face and body of an auburn-haired Christie Brinkley when she was Carol’s age. Rabbi Neil Bloom was forty-four. He figured that Carol liked older men. He realized that he didn’t do so badly for a Rabbi, getting this girl into his bed. Bloom was almost as old as Jules, not overly handsome, but no Quasimodo either. He bore a slight resemblance to actor John Cusack.

Rabbi Bloom was five-foot, ten-inches tall, always clean shaven, and bald on top, leaving him with hair only on the sides of his head by the time he was twenty-nine. He did not resemble the stereotype of what a Rabbi should look like. As the leader of a Reformed Synagogue, he was not required to wear a large black hat with curly sideburns, a long beard, or a skullcap called a yarmulke. He looked and dressed like any other upper-class professional.

Bloom had never taken a wife, but not because he wasn’t good looking enough. What women were attracted to in Bloom was his position in the community. However, when Carol indicated her attraction to him two years before by her very flirtatious manner at a community event, his interests boldly led toward getting her into his bed. After all, having attracted a lover as gorgeous as this young nymphet was like winning the Power Ball Lottery.

The nurse left them alone with the wraparound rod curtains closed around his