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

The event was full of photographers from the Jewish press, the National Catholic Register, the Arizona Gazette, and the Sedona Times Herald. The Sedona paper was free in hotel lobbies, the visitor’s center, and in restaurants and coffee shops throughout the area. Rabbi Bloom had become a celebrity.

Five

Pratt drove to Jules Jacobson’s house on Veranda Drive, in the more affluent part of town, walked up the long driveway and rang the front doorbell. Carol answered and Pratt introduced himself as Detective Johnny Pratt of the Sedona Police Department. Carol became extremely nervous because she had noticed him dozing outside of Neil’s room at the hospital, but didn’t know why he was at her home.

Pratt asked Carol if her husband was at home.

She asked him, “What is this about?”

“I’ve been investigating the shooting of Rabbi Bloom and questioning as many of the congregants of the synagogue as possible to see if they could provide any viable clues.”

Carol then responded, “Yes, my husband is home. I’ll get him right away. How come you aren’t questioning me too, Detective?”

“Because, as I understand from many of the congregants, you never attended any of the Rabbi’s services,” replied Pratt.

“Well, that’s true, I’m not really religious and not interested in sitting there as people prayed and sang when I could go shopping. Now, I understand why you’re not questioning me. Thank you,” she answered with a sigh of relief. Carol yelled up the stairs, “Jules, Jules, there’s a police detective here to see you. Could you come down or do you want me to send him up?”

Jules replied, “No, I’ll come down in a couple of minutes.” He slowly came down the stairs and approached the detective. “Hello, officer,” said Jules.

“Detective Pratt,” Johnny answered, letting Jules know that he preferred being called by his correct title and name.

“Okay, Detective Pratt, what can I do for you?” he asked inquisitively.

Pratt replied, “Do you have any idea why someone might want to kill Rabbi Bloom?”

Jules asked the same question the Rabbi had before. “What makes you think that someone wanted to kill him?”

“He was shot twice near the heart. As the Rabbi fell to the ground, we assume that the shooter believed he killed the Rabbi and therefore stopped shooting and got away.”

“Why would they have shot at a Rabbi?” asked Jules.

Once again, Pratt used the same sarcastic answer that he used on Bloom. “The shooter sure didn’t mistake him for a deer. He was either an anti-Semite or had some personal motive,” replied Pratt coolly.

Now, Jules felt he needed to respond more forthrightly. “Detective Pratt, all I know is there are rumors going around the synagogue that the Rabbi may have been having an affair. The rumor was that it quite possibly could have been with the wife of a congregant. That’s the culprit you should be looking for.”

“When did you hear those rumors about the Rabbi, Mr. Jacobson?” Pratt asked.

“A few days before he got shot,” Jules replied.

“Did it ever occur to you that you had an obligation to notify the police of such rumors when you heard them, especially after the man got shot? Not meaning to be insulting, Mr. Jacobson,” the detective asked cautiously, “but did you at any time consider your wife to be the person he might have been involved with?”

“You, sir, have crossed the line,” said Jules indignantly. “Not only was that question disparaging to my wife but also to me. You are intimating that I may be the one who tried to harm or even kill the Rabbi. The time has come and gone for you to leave my home!”

Pratt wouldn’t give up that easily. “Mr. Jacobson, in no way was I insinuating that you played any role in attempting to harm or kill the Rabbi. I was just asking you if the Rabbi was possibly seeing your wife. Before I leave, I need to speak to your wife.”

“Not in this home after your contemptuous behavior. I asked you to leave my home right now,” Jules replied heatedly.

“All right, Mr. Jacobson, don’t get your panties all in a bunch. I’ll leave, but I’ll have to call your wife down to the station for her interview and there, it won’t be in your presence.”

The next day at 9:00 a.m., Pratt called the Jacobson’s home and Carol answered the phone. “Mrs. Jacobson?” asked the detective.

“Yes?” she replied.

“This is Detective Pratt; I need you to come down to the station today. We must address some issues. We are located at 135 Prudhoe Street in south Sedona.”

She asked apprehensively, “I thought you told me yesterday that you didn’t need to talk to me because I wasn’t under suspicion since I never attended services.”

“No, Mrs. Jacobson, I said that no one at the synagogue saw you ever come to services, but I never mentioned that you are not under suspicion. I’m not saying that you are, but we don’t rule anyone out until we’ve caught the perpetrator,” he replied appropriately.

“All right, I’ll cancel my shopping and be down at the station around 2:00 p.m., is that all right?” she asked nervously.

“That’ll be fine,” he answered.

Later that afternoon, Carol Jacobson announced herself to the sergeant at the front desk precisely at 2:00 p.m. Sergeant McByrd called Pratt on the radio to announce he had a visitor downstairs. Pratt escorted Carol up to the interrogation room. He asked her to take a seat on the opposite side of the table from him and offered her “a coke, water, coffee or tea.” She declined all of them, wanting to get this over with quickly.

Pratt scrutinized Carol with a stare that lasted for what seemed like hours to her, but was just slightly over thirty seconds. Carol couldn’t handle the glaring stare any longer and nervously asked, “What can I do for you detective?”

Pratt began by gradually delving into her relationship with the Rabbi. “Mrs. Jacobson, since your husband attended Sabbath services each week, why didn’t you join him and go to the services too?”

“Well detective,