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

to put pressure on his wound to try and stop the bleeding. I called 911 at the same time. I told them that a man was shot and laying outside on the walkway in front of the synagogue. The operator gave me instructions on how to provide first aid and told me not to hang up until the police arrived.”

“As I pressed down hard, he sure was screaming, but that was all I could do. I kept changing rags when they got soaked with blood and pressed down again. I was telling him that the ambulance was on its way and that he would be all right. He looked up at me, thanked me and then passed out.”

“A fire engine arrived first and some firemen with medical equipment asked me to step away while they administered to his wound. Then a few minutes later the ambulance arrived, and they told the firemen that they would take over. I didn’t see what they did to his wound because the firemen were in the way, but I did see the EMT put an IV into one of his arms and then lifted him onto a gurney and shoved it into the ambulance. Then they left with their siren blaring. And that’s all I know.”

“Mr. Hernandez, you most likely saved his life with your first aid. Did you notice anything unusual going on, or perhaps see someone who may have shot him?”

“The only thing I saw that day that was unusual, detective, was a man lying on the sidewalk in front of the synagogue, bleeding from a gunshot wound, I have no idea who shot him or why. Wait a minute. I do remember seeing a green pickup truck going down the street. He must have stopped to help Mr. Green and when he saw me come out to help him, he just drove off.”

“Andre, this is very important, did you catch sight of the license plate on that truck?”

“No, he was too far gone for me to see it.”

“Can you tell me any other details about the truck that you may have noticed? For example, was it missing any hub caps, was any part of the pickup a different color, or did you notice any dents?”

“Well, Detective, I know it was old and kinda ratty looking, I think it was some kind of green, but I didn’t notice anything else, just some scratches on the body of the truck, but I don’t remember any dents; he just drove off too fast.”

“Thank you very much, Mr. Hernandez, you’ve been a big help and I don’t expect to be calling on you again, unless you are needed to testify in court. That will only happen if we apprehend the shooter and need you to repeat what you just told me.”

That last sentence made Andre incredibly nervous. He imagined that testifying in court is terrifying. He was sure that if he went to court, it would make him a target to the shooter or the shooter’s partner, if he had one, who may not have yet been arrested. Going to court was the last thing Andre wanted.

Fourteen

The next month after Jack’s recovery, the four partners were golfing together again and were practicing for a local pro-am tournament. Temperatures were in the mid-eighties but dry, making for a perfect day to have a golf game. The four of them, having played together for slightly over ten years, were next to be called after a foursome ahead of them completed their second hole. The club separated foursomes by at least two holes to avoid overlap, which means that another foursome wouldn’t have to request a “play through.” They were playing at the St. Germain Golf Club in Sedona, Arizona. It was an unusually warm day for wintertime, although playing golf in Sedona has no weather drawbacks.

Naturally the three of them were interested in how Jack was feeling and asked him. His answer was, “Up to par. Pun intended!”

They all got a chuckle out of the response as he was getting ready to tee-off. He placed his orange golf ball cautiously on the tee, careful not to hit it by accident—not that it would have made much of a difference. On the first hole, he picked the driver out of the golf bag, addressed the ball, and took several practice swings near the tee. Ultimately, he swung at the ball and sliced it 75 yards on this 250-yard, par-four hole.

This time they had more than a chuckle, breaking out in laughter, which Jack took crushingly and already felt defeated. He blamed the poor swing on the recent surgical pain and not on his golfing abilities, retorting, “I do not desire to be the sport of your entertainment and if you persist, I will no longer be part of this game with you guys, if all you can do is mock me.”

Todd gracefully acknowledged their rudeness and delicately answered, “Jackie, don’t take our ribbing so close to your vest. You certainly have thicker skin than that, which even your surgeon verified. We all make fun of each other often enough to cover eighteen holes, ten-fold.”

“Okay, okay,” Jack said, “I was just bluffing you guys to try and make you feel guilty, but I can tell it didn’t work. Tony, you’re up after me, show us how it’s done.”

Tony, still chuckling from the conversation, approached the tee that Green pushed into the ground for him and placed his red ball on it. Each of the four of them used a different color ball, so there was no confusion as they approached the green regarding whose ball was closest to the hole, removing all possibility of continuing old arguments.

He walked slowly over to the tee, placed the ball on it and straightened up for the swing. He also took a few practice swings, eyed the flagstick, and then studied the angle he would need to hit the ball. This first hole curved to the right on its way to