A Hole In One, Paul Weininger [top novels to read txt] 📗

stench might leak out of the house and be detected by the neighbors. He figured that if someone noticed the smell and asked him about it, he would tell them that he was holding a dead deer carcass in the garage for a hunter friend until he returned from a business trip, for fear that if he left in his own backyard it would in bring other animals, perhaps even a bear, to feed on it.

This idea didn’t do much to calm his nerves. In something of a panic, Straub decided to burn the body so it would be unrecognizable, so he went out and bought a can of gasoline. When he returned, he took the tarp with the Rabbi’s dead body wrapped inside and pulled it through the house, past the kitchen, and out of the sliding back doors. He found a rake right next to an unlocked shed and started raking leaves and pine needles to the middle of the backyard to form an oval of about eight feet long by four feet wide.

He then dragged the tarp-covered body out of the house and heaved it onto the pile of leaves. Looking around and not seeing anyone nearby, he placed the gun and silencer under the body and raked more leaves onto the rolled-up tarp This still wasn’t enough to cover the evidence, so Straub began raking both sides of the yard to gather more leaves and pine needles to fully cover the body to a height of about five feet. He took the can of gasoline and poured it all over the leaves, then tossed the canister on the pile without getting any gas on himself.

He returned to the house and cleaned all the body’s leaking fluids off the floor with rags he found in the garage, using as much bleach as necessary to remove any visible stains, then threw the rag and gloves into the center of the pile. He used the rake end to press them into the leaves about two feet down and then threw the bamboo rake into the pile as well.

A few seconds later, he lit a match and threw it onto the pile along with the matchbook. The pile immediately burst into flames and billowing smoke, which should have been worrisome, but Straub was oddly confident that the size of Rabbi’s estate—at least three acres, he figured—would provide adequate privacy. He used the side yard to go back to the front door, hoping that if he were seen now, people would assume that the Rabbi was just getting home from the synagogue.

Unfortunately for Straub, the next-door neighbor, Frank Weissman, was taking his trashcans to the curb to be picked up the next morning. As he was returning to his front door, he caught a glimpse of Rabbi Neil pulling the bundle into his backyard, lighting it on fire and walking back to his front door. He called out “Good morning, Rabbi,” and waved to him.

Straub waved back at him rather weakly, since he didn’t know the neighbor’s name, and went inside Neil’s house.

Weissman saw the fire in the backyard and knocked on the Rabbi’s door to ask him, “What are you burning in the backyard, Neil?”

“Well, I had a lot of dead leaves to burn,” Straub replied, but thanks to his Hebrew studies, Straub quickly thought to add “While I was at it I decided to destroy two old worn-out Torahs,” which he had learned must be disposed of by fire.

Later, knowing the Rabbi was now inside his home, Frank snuck into the Rabbi’s backyard to make sure the fire wouldn’t reach his own yard. Instead he found a scene that was as horrific as some of the stories his father had told him of atrocities during the Holocaust. He ran back to get his wife Colleen and show it to her. After noticing a skull protruding from the ashes, they ran back to their own home and called 911. Two black and whites arrived and put out the fire with the extinguishers that all police cars carried, and notified the sheriff about what they had found. Detectives Sommerville and Pratt arrived shortly thereafter, and Straub’s brief but spectacular run as Rabbi Bloom was soon finished.

Acknowledgements

Considering that this is my first attempt at writing a novel, I would like to convey my gratitude to the following people for their help in getting me there:

First and foremost, I want to thank my wonderful wife of 36 years, Helen, who not only believed in my ability to write a book but actively supported me in writing it. She provided invaluable assistance in proofreading my manuscript and in editing parts of it with me. She is my love forever.

I am also grateful to Stan Pawlowski, for suggesting the idea of including golfing in my story line to make it more interesting; to Ken Ulsh, who sketched the original concept of the book’s cover; to graphic artist Alex Lee, who designed the final cover and made requested changes with great patience; to Ed Smith, for his photograph of me for the biography page; and to Vivian Freeman Chaffin for the interior layout.

Finally, I want to thank my editor, Hugh Gardner, who not only became a literary mentor to me but also a dear friend, and my publishing consultant, Larry Upshaw, who put us together.

About the Author

Paul Weininger is a debut author who began this novel at age

74. He was born in Switzerland in 1946, came to the United States in 1953, gained his U.S. citizenship in New York in 1958, and earned a B.A. in psychology from Long Island University in 1967.

His social science background and affable personality suited him well for a career in Human Resources, which occupied his entire professional life, culminating in the role of Director of Labor Relations for the largest food wholesaler in the country at the time, with 30,000 employees to look after. He retired in 2013.

Always a voracious reader, Paul often