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

Pratt placed his police globe light on the dashboard of the unmarked car and turned it on without the siren as a signal to the neighbors that he’s a cop. He notified dispatch of his ten-twenty, police code for location.

He parked near a tree, three car lengths from Andre’s house, turned off the rotating police light, removed it from the dashboard and got out of the car. As he approached the front door, he turned to look behind him and discovered the neighbors still eyeing him. He knocked on the front door and Andre answered. Pratt immediately flashed his badge and introduced himself as being the detective investigating the shooting. He suggested to Andre that he be forthright when answering his questions. Andre invited him in.

“Andre, can you tell me what you saw the day you saved Jack Green?”

Before Andre could respond, Pratt was interrupted by his two-way radio, with the dispatcher saying, “All units near 1515 McGuire in Flagstaff, we have a ten-seventy-one,” the code for shots fired.

Pratt was the first to respond to the call. “Ten-four, this is Pratt, I’m on my way. Isn’t that across town from where I’m at now?”

The dispatcher asked, “What’s your twenty?”

“I’m at 112 Sedona Blvd. in the Fairhaven section of town.”

“Negative, Detective. It should take you about forty-five minutes to get to Flagstaff with your siren, I’ve got three other units on the way, they should be there in thirty-five minutes. I also called Detective Sommerville to try and get him there sooner.”

“Why Flagstaff?” asked Pratt. “Because it’s at the Rabbi’s home,” the dispatcher replied.

Racing back to his car, Pratt again placed the police light on his dashboard, then hit the switch that started the siren, knowing it would take him some time to get to the house. He sped up to eighty-five miles per hour using Route 66. “Tell those units when they get there, they are not to touch or move anything without putting on their rubber gloves. I don’t want things getting contaminated by their fingerprints. Anyone injured?”

“Negative, the call came in as two shots fired but no injuries. Rabbi Bloom contacted 911,” the dispatcher added.

“Ten-sixty-nine. I’ll be there ASAP.” The dispatcher’s call raised the hairs on the back of the detective’s neck. Another shooting with just two shots and no one hit. Interesting!

He next heard the dispatcher in Sedona, “All units, orders from Detective Pratt, put on your rubber gloves before you touch anything and move nothing from where it is when you get there.”

One of the units responded knowing full well Pratt could hear them. “Tell the detective to kiss our ass, we know how to handle a case. Does he think we just got out of the academy?” Pratt laughed when he heard that response.

Using his siren, Pratt arrived just seventeen minutes later. The Rabbi was standing outside on his lawn and had already given his story to Detective Sommerville and the police officers from Flagstaff and Sedona who arrived before Pratt.

The Rabbi was alarmed at the shooting of his home; now it seemed that he was being targeted again. He remembered the other time they shot the wrong man in front of his synagogue, probably thinking it was him.

“I just don’t understand these shootings. I hope the marshal put you on this case, Detective,” said Bloom.

“He did, and I would have given him some lip if he hadn’t. Tell me what happened, Rabbi.”

“Well, I was just returning to my front door after getting my mail out of the mailbox down by the curb. Suddenly, I heard two gunshots, close enough to graze my ear, but they hit my front door, not me. This guy seems to be lacking target practice, because if he’s trying to kill me, he keeps on missing.”

“You have a sense of humor, Rabbi, considering you were almost killed twice.”

“Apparently, God wasn’t ready for me, yet. When I realized that I wasn’t dead, a tsunami of relief came over me and I guess that’s why I’m able to lighten up a bit.”

Trying to restrain himself, Johnny said respectfully, “Rabbi, this is no joke. Realistically, you may have been murdered because he tried once before.”

“I understand, Detective, and apologize for the remark. I didn’t see who was shooting at me. All I saw was the back of an old greenish pickup truck drive by and then a brown sedan behind it by about fifty yards. I believe that the sedan was too far behind the truck by the time the bullets struck my door. So, if the bullets came from a vehicle, they probably came from the pickup. Then again, I can’t be one hundred percent certain they didn’t come from behind those large shrubs directly across the street in my neighbor’s front yard.”

“Were you hurt at all this time, Rabbi?”

“No, not this time, just confused and frightened.”

Pratt told Bloom, “We’re going to have to remove your door to extract the bullets from it or we can leave the door where it is, but we’ll have to cut some really big square holes into it just to get to the bullets. These bullets are in very deep, and the holes they’ll cut will substantially damage it. Our department’s budget will permit us to replace it for you. I’ll have forensics remove your front door and install a temporary door with a lock until we can replace the door with a new permanent one. I want forensics to look for powder traces in and around the holes in the door.”

“No problem, Detective. Do you think you can have an officer sit in front of my home for a few days and nights, just to make sure there’s no third chance to shoot me?”

“I’ll talk to Detective Sommerville. I’m sure he’ll be able to arrange for your protection.”

Pratt radioed the detective in the gray sedan parked four houses away from the Rabbi’s home to keep an eye on him. “Steve, did you notice a green pickup doing any shooting at the Rabbi?”

“Negative. It