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

out to see what was happening. According to what he told the police officers who arrived at the scene before me, Andre said that he saw you laying on the ground and bleeding, so first he called 911 on his cell phone and then ran inside for some clean rags to press hard against your wound to slow down the bleeding, until medical help arrived.”

Despite his evident disbelief that he might have been the target, Jack also suspected that the detective did not necessarily tell him everything. “Did Andre see who shot me?” he asked.

“No, he didn’t, he just told us that he heard the shots from inside the synagogue and though thinking that it might be firecrackers, he still wanted to make sure the sounds he heard were not gunshots.”

“Well,” Jack said, “I can’t think of anyone who might want to kill me, other than my golfing partners, who may have been aiming at my left elbow because I beat their scores so often. That’s just a joke, we are all great friends and none of us wishes to harm another. Is Andre here? I want to thank him for saving my life and ask him what happened.”

“No, he’s not here. After he found your body lying in front of the temple, he kept you alive long enough for real medical attention to arrive. According to Andre, after the EMTs arrived, he went to throw out the bloody rags and wash his hands then locked up the synagogue, got in his car and sped home, out of fear for his own life. Mr. Green, I’m sorry I had to disturb you here in the hospital, but time is of the essence if we are to make progress in finding the shooter.”

Just three hours after Green had been taken to the hospital, two detectives searched through every inch of the synagogue, finding it empty and the rear door locked. Since Rabbi Bloom didn’t see Jack after he was shot, they deduced he must have left through the rear door of the synagogue and locked it. They then searched the temple grounds looking for spent cartridges but came up empty handed. This created a new question for them. Where the hell were the casings?

That left Jack Green as the possible target. It also told the detective the shooter was probably fingerprinted at one time since he left no shell casings. He must have suspected a fingerprint on the shell would lead directly to him. Pratt speculated the shooter probably wore gloves just in the event he couldn’t remove the shell casing before the police got to it.

The police then drove back to the Rabbi’s home in Flagstaff. His house could only be described as one that belonged in Architectural Digest. He lived in a large U-shaped, one-story, ranch-style abode, with a wrought iron gate to enter his driveway, which ended at a three-car garage. The gate was just standing alone but had finely manicured six-foot tall fir shrubbery linked on both sides, therefore making it more difficult to enter by foot. As you walked inside the front door, you faced a wooden closet surrounded by a wall of fieldstone.

The right wing led to four bedroom suites. The left wing led you to the dining room and a beautiful Brazilian walnut dining table, with seating for fourteen, and a huge kitchen with a grandiose center island made of the finest Italian marble with enough room to seat eight for breakfast. The floors were made of Carrera tiles and polished to a high-gloss. Facing the rear of the home was a living room with a massive cathedral ceiling. This room made up the entire rear width of the house and contained a granite fireplace made to look like the 1800s, meaning it was deep enough to cook inside by hanging outsized pots. On each side of the fireplace were large glass sliding doors opening to the backyard, which faced a golf course but was surrounded by very tall trees, providing total privacy around the property. The furniture was rustic-style comfort with tons of pillows, soft egg-shelled colored walls, and gentle music playing through speakers mounted in the ceiling of every room. Each room had its own dial to change the type of music and its volume.

The detectives rang his bell and within two minutes the Rabbi answered the door. They showed him their identification and he invited them to come in and sit down in his living room. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

“Tell us, Rabbi, are you aware that your friend Jack Green was shot outside your synagogue today?”

The detective’s query stunned him to the core, “No, I didn’t know. Is he dead?”

“He’s not dead, but he is seriously wounded, and in the hospital undergoing surgery right now,” they replied.

“Why would anyone want to shoot Jack?” he asked worriedly. “Did you catch the person who shot him?”

The younger of the department’s two lower-level detectives responded, “No sir, we haven’t caught the perpetrator, but we should be getting some leads soon; it might just be an anti-Semite. We don’t yet know who the target was. We are interviewing all potential witnesses. Rabbi, can you explain why you were at the synagogue on a non-Sabbath day? Did you hear any gunshots?”

“No, I didn’t hear any gun shots,” replied Bloom. “As for why I was there that day, my office is in the synagogue, and I work there even on days when we may not conduct a service, just like a church where the priest has an office, too. That’s where I write my sermons, pray, provide religious lessons, prepare for a funeral, meet with family members of the deceased, meet with brides and grooms to be or handle bookkeeping and other matters. I was there because that is where I worked that day. I was giving three boys bar mitzvah lessons. Each boy was to have his bar mitzvah during separate upcoming weeks. I give their lessons together, including all the prayers, inflections,