A Hole In One Paul Weininger (list of ebook readers .TXT) 📖

and pay by cash; she would arrive ten minutes later as Mrs. Julie Herman, his wife.

She knocked on his door and it quickened his heartbeat to open it. He picked her up and carried her to the sofa in the huge living room that also had a fireplace for the winter guests. He just couldn’t get his hands off her. Her mouth searched his and when she found it, she didn’t leave it for an hour. Later, they discussed Jules, his own sermon at the synagogue, and Detective Pratt.

When done, they left thirty minutes apart and returned to Sedona at around 8:30 p.m. Jules didn’t ask Carol any questions since she had left him a note as to where she would be and that she would most likely be back around 10:00 p.m. He was pleased when she returned earlier. She came home with a few packages from the supermarket around 9:00 p.m. at which time Jules had told her about Bloom’s sermon. This apparently had convinced him that Carol was not having an affair.

Pratt, however, was still a question mark to them both.

Unbeknownst to Carol and Neil, Pratt had assigned two of his best officers to begin following them wherever they went. One officer was in an old gray pickup truck and the other in an older black sedan, neither of which would be suspicious if Bloom or Carol looked in their rearview mirrors for vehicles following them. Those cops were real pros and always stayed more than four or five car lengths behind them. Luckily for the two lovers, they lost both cops on their way to Oak Creek.

◆◆◆

Two days later, two gunshots were fired at the Sedona Reformed Synagogue as Jack Green, one of the Rabbi’s golfing teammates, was leaving after meeting Neil for lunch. One of those gunshots hit Green in the lower back, near his kidney. The other bullet missed his body and hit the front façade of the building near the doors. He was taken to Sedona General Hospital, where they performed surgery on his wound.

On Jack’s outer clothing, the bullet hole left a tear and bloodstains appeared just below the kidney. Internally, the bullet severed his left renal artery and passed just a half-inch from his spine. Had the artery not been sewn back together as quickly as they got to it, he would have survived only an additional half hour. But survive he did.

Detective Pratt heard about Jack Green’s shooting at the same time as the ambulance received their call. He immediately rushed to the hospital to speak with Green before he went into surgery. He didn’t yet know the extent of Jack’s injuries and used the siren on his unmarked vehicle to speed through town.

As Pratt arrived at the hospital, two ambulance attendants handed the gurney carrying Green over to the doctors who took him straight to the operating room. All Johnny was able to see was Green’s blood all over the sheets on the gurney and the attendants’clothing and gloved hands. He walked over to the ambulance attendants, flashed his badge and began questioning the EMTs. “Where was he when you first picked him up? Where on his body was he shot? How many bullets entered his body? How badly was he hurt? Does it look like a fatal wound? Were there any witnesses that you saw close by? Did he say anything to you at any time? Is there any additional information you can share with me that I haven’t asked you about?”

A white mid-twenties male ambulance attendant responded, “We’re not permitted to discuss anything with anyone regarding patients we bring in; it’s the HIPAA law, you know.”

The more senior female Black attendant told her partner “It’s okay, we always respond to police questions. HIPAA doesn’t apply to a police investigation. All right, Detective, let’s go over each question more slowly please.”

Pratt began with, “Where was he when you first picked him up?”

“He was in front of the door to Beth Israel Synagogue,” she answered.

“Where on his body was he hit?”

“Down in his back near the kidney, but the other bullet, there were two you know, hit the wall near the front door.”

“How badly was he hurt?”

“Can’t really tell but it looked pretty serious to me.”

“Did it look like a fatal wound?”

“No, I thought he’d pull through after surgery.” The attendant seemed confident with her answer.

“Were there any witnesses that saw what happened?”

“Wasn’t looking for any, but I’m fairly certain that there weren’t since no one came to him or to us after the shots rang out as he was laying on the ground.”

“Did he say anything to you at any time?” he asked her.

“No, he was pretty much out cold all the way to the hospital. He only uttered one word when we picked him up; he just asked ‘Why?’ I assumed he was asking why someone shot him,” conjectured the younger attendant.

“Is there any other information that you two could share with me that I haven’t asked you about?”

“I had heard that just before we got there, the synagogue’s custodian had been giving him first aid, applying pressure to his wound until the Fire Department arrived. We got there just a few minutes later,” said the senior ambulance attendant. “I think you’ve covered all the bases pretty well, Detective.”

“Thank you for your answers. I appreciate your cooperation and will tell your commanding officer how helpful you’ve been to me. I will recommend you both for a commendation,” Pratt promised.

“Gee, thanks, Detective. That certainly can’t hurt,” said the senior attendant, “especially for me as the only woman on the squad.”

Pratt now entered the hospital intent on questioning the surgeon after Green’s surgery. He went up to the second-floor nurses’ station, flashed his badge and asked to speak to the head nurse.

Marge Spalding, the head nurse on the floor, was paged and came to the station as one of the other nurses pointed her out to Pratt. He produced his badge and introduced himself in a friendly, professional manner.