Pratt was surprised and immensely curious at Jules’ sudden ski trip. “Where exactly is he staying?” he asked her.
“I don’t know. He always rents different cabins up there that have no phones, TV or radio. He just wanted to get away from everything. Sometimes he meets up with some old buddies of his, but I never knew their names.”
“Did he go with any friends that you do know?”
“No, he went alone. Why are you asking me all this? Maybe he’s having an affair, for all I know, did you ever consider that, Detective Pratt?” she asked, with what sounded like hope in her voice.
“Frankly, I don’t give a damn if he is or isn’t, but it does bother me that you, as his wife, don’t know where he is.”
Carol glanced down at her hands and said nothing.
Pratt then took on a more serious and assertive face. “I came to inform you both in person that Rabbi Bloom was arrested last night at his home. We found a cremated body buried under a huge pile of leaves in his backyard, someone we believe the Rabbi murdered. He has therefore been placed under arrest. However, now that your husband has disappeared, I’m wondering if Bloom murdered him and cremated his body in the backyard. Are you sure you don’t have any phone numbers of anyone near him that can go and check on him? Can you call the mountain lodges and find out if he purchased any lift tickets?”
“I can try and call, but I really don’t have any idea where exactly he may be to take those calls. That seems to be the whole point of these trips,” she replied, before asking Johnny to leave her house.
As Pratt neared the front door to leave, he heard a large sob coming from the room he had just exited, along with something that sounded like muffled crying. He thought what Carol heard had really upset her or perhaps she was just acting for his benefit. He was also sure that Jules’ possible death didn’t seem to upset her as much as the Rabbi being arrested.
Pratt and Sommerville decided to check all the lodges and ski lifts in the two mountain ski resorts and then checked the motels. What they learned was, that if Jules was up there he must have paid cash for everything and not left any information containing his name and whereabouts.
A radio call came in to Pratt from the dispatcher after he left Carol’s house. “Hey, Johnny, there was some guy named Rabbi Isaac who called for you.”
“What did he want?”
“All he said was that you should call him at the number I just texted to your cell phone. He says he thinks he might have some information you may be interested in. As you can see from the area code, he called from Scottsdale.”
“Ten-four, I’ll follow up with him in a little while.”
Pratt drove home asking himself questions that he felt needed answers before he could hand the case over to D.A. Stanford for prosecution. She would have the final say on whether they have a case. The more he thought about it, the shakier his case seemed to be.
• Why were four men shot at, and yet none killed?
• Is the shooter extorting money from each of the four?
• Do the four golfers have something to hide?
• Where is Jules?
• Is the assailant really such a poor shooter?
• Was the assailant just trying to scare them; if so, then why?
• Who is this Rabbi Isaac? What info does he have?
The situation was getting more intriguing by the minute. He knew the four men weren’t being extorted for money because he had subpoenaed copies of each of their bank accounts, checked them and found no large withdrawals. The target must have been one of the four, yet the shooter was apparently trying to confuse the police as to which man was the real target. Stymied by these puzzles, the next step was clearly for Pratt to call this Rabbi Isaac in Scottsdale and see what he had to offer.
Rabbi Isaac picked up the phone. “Hello, this is Rabbi Isaac, may I help you, Officer?”
Pratt was momentarily taken aback by this familiarity from someone he’d never spoken to before, then realized Isaac obviously had caller ID. “Yes, Rabbi, I am Detective Pratt, Sedona Police Department. I understand you called because you have some information that might be of interest to me. I was hoping that I could come down and talk to you. Did you see the news about the arrest of Rabbi Bloom here in Sedona? Do you recognize that name?”
“Yes, I’ve met Rabbi Bloom before, though I don’t know him very well. You certainly should come over, Detective. I think I have some information that may alter the course of your investigation.”
“Well, Rabbi, that’s what I’m trying to find out by questioning people such as you.”
“Okay then, come to my home at 10:00 tomorrow morning. My address is...”
“Sorry, don’t mean to interrupt you, Rabbi, but I already have your address. I’ll be there at 10:00 a.m.”
The next day couldn’t arrive soon enough for the detective. He rang the bell and Rabbi Isaac let him in. He was offered a cup of coffee or tea, which Pratt gracefully declined, anxious to get to his questions.
“Rabbi, I’m eager to hear what you have to offer that may change the course of my investigation.”
“I received a call from a man named Richard Straub sometime a couple of months after Rabbi Bloom was feted and featured in the newspaper. He told me that he wanted Hebrew lessons. At first I was afraid that I might be meeting with a potential terrorist,” Isaac replied.
“Is that what this is all about?” Pratt asked.
“No, Detective, he said he really wanted to learn Hebrew and asked me if I would give him those lessons. I asked the gentleman why he wanted to learn Hebrew now, since he sounded like an adult and not a twelve-year-old boy. He told me that his parents who were Jewish had divorced when he was eleven and he never had a bar mitzvah at thirteen, the conventional age. So, he wanted to learn Hebrew and get his bar mitzvah now and be recognized as an adult Jewish man by his faith,” replied Isaac.
“Since his sessions with you, have you heard about the body we discovered in the backyard of Rabbi Neil Bloom in Flagstaff ?”
“Yes, I have. Do you believe he is the killer of the body you found? Have you determined whose body it was?”
“We don’t know, yet. That’s what we’re attempting to find out. You say you heard about Rabbi Bloom’s arrest and that you had met him personally?”
“Yes, I had. That’s why I called you in the first place. I think this may have something to do with Mr. Straub, who was that client of mine.”
“In what way do you believe this involves Mr. Straub?” the detective asked diligently.
Rabbi Isaac responded, “I’ve seen Mr. Straub for many months and began noticing some interesting things about him. He has a remarkably close resemblance to Rabbi Bloom, if Mr. Straub cleaned himself up. He could possibly even pass for Rabbi Bloom if he were to get a shave and haircut. I can’t help but wonder if his interest in Hebrew lessons may have been for a more nefarious reason, because he didn’t stick with the lessons long enough to get bar mitzvahed, even though he was fully paid up to the time. He took just enough lessons to get by reading Hebrew and become knowledgeable enough regarding some of the prayers said at a synagogue, but certainly not enough to get bar mitzvahed.”
“Thank you very much, Rabbi, that’s really interesting. Do you happen to have his phone number or address?”
“No, I’m sorry, but I never needed it and he never offered any of that information.”
“Well then, Rabbi, thank you for giving me your time. The information you provided is greatly appreciated. Please keep in mind that we may need to subpoena you should this result in a trial,” Pratt advised him.
“I understand.”
At his first opportunity, Pratt reported the encounter to Sommerville, who seemed delighted at what he heard.
Twenty-Two
On Sabbath Saturdays, some of Rabbi Bloom’s congregants started noticing something strange about his demeanor when he conducted services. Usually calm and composed, the Rabbi appeared more uncomfort
able starting just prior to his arrest and subsequent release on bond. Todd noticed something else about Bloom that he couldn’t remember seeing before, something that caused him to eventually contact Detective Pratt. The Rabbi had a small birthmark on the right side of his neck slightly above the collar of his shirt. He didn’t think anything of it at first, but it left him perplexed. After all, he had been to services on hundreds of occasions, played golf with the Rabbi for the past ten years and known him for eighteen years. As far as Todd knew, the Rabbi didn’t have a birthmark, especially one so visible.
Todd went to Sabbath services for the next two weeks and kept staring at the mark on the Rabbi’s neck, bothered that he couldn’t recall it being there before. After the third week, he approached Bloom outside of the synagogue and, not wishing to confuse his friend and golfing partner, calmly approached the Rabbi. “Tell me Neil, how many years has it been since you first took over our congregation and then started playing golf with us? It seems just like yesterday to me.”
Bloom seemed somewhat uncomfortable with the question. “About sixteen years now, Todd, why do you ask?”
“Just seeing you up there, Neil, and on the golf course, makes me so proud to be your friend, and I was just wondering how long we have known each other because I couldn’t remember,” Todd replied innocently. This seemed to put the Rabbi more at ease.
But Todd noticed two problems with Bloom’s response. He had answered “sixteen years” regarding how long he had served as the Rabbi in Sedona—the correct answer was eighteen years. This could have been a simple memory lapse, but not on the question of how long he’d known Todd.
Back in the day, Todd and Jack, longtime golfing partners, decided they needed another pair at the golf course to make it a foursome. That’s when they had bumped into Rabbi Bloom and Tony, who were also looking for a foursome. They all agreed to play golf as a group from then on, but that was ten years ago.
Now, as they chatted after synagogue, Bloom made a startling comment. “By the way, Todd,” Bloom said, “I won’t be playing with you guys any longer because I have a pinched nerve in my back. I can barely move and certainly can’t swing.”
“That’s just an excuse, Neil, because you’ve never been able to swing,” Todd teased. Privately, he was quite disturbed by the Rabbi’s announcement. A few minutes later, when Todd was alone, he decided to call Detective Pratt again.
The detective answered the phone. “This is Pratt. What can I do for you, Dr. Stern?” His caller ID told him who was on the line.
“Well, Detective, I’ve seen some unusual things lately at the synagogue and was wondering if you could come by my home, so we can discuss them.”
Pratt answered without hesitation, “I can be there first thing in the morning, say eight o’clock, if that’s all right with you. I like to get an early start to my day. If you’ll just give me your address, I’ll be there at eight sharp.”
The next morning, the detective couldn’t have been more punctual if he lived next door to Todd. “Okay, Dr. Stern, what’s up?” he asked.
“I noticed two unusual things about the Rabbi. One was about a half-inch sized birthmark on his neck, which I’m almost certain was never there before. The other was when he gave me the wrong answers as to how many years he has been leading our synagogue, and how many years we’ve known each other.”
Pratt was silent for a moment thinking about what this could mean. “I don’t know about the math mistakes,” Pratt told Todd, “but that birthmark stuff sure seems odd. I’d like to see the mark on his neck at the synagogue.”
“Why not come next Saturday and attend the services with me?” suggested Todd. “Perhaps you’ll see what I’m talking about and notice something that I haven’t.”
“What time do services begin? I’ll pick you up in an unmarked car.”
“There are usually two services on Saturdays, because not everyone can make it to the first one at 8:00 a.m. The second service starts at 11:00. Services usually only last an hour unless there is a bar mitzvah and there are none this coming Saturday; I checked. The synagogue holds about five hundred people and there are twelve hundred congregants, so that’s another reason Neil holds two services.”
“I’ll be at your house at 7:15 in the morning, which should give us plenty of time to get to the synagogue and grab a seat in time for the eight o’clock service,” said Pratt.
At the opening of a Sabbath service, the Rabbi always welcomes the crowd, thanks them for coming to this house of God and has them rise for the first prayer, always said in Hebrew.
The Rabbi came out, stood on the bimah, welcomed the crowd, and started the Hebrew prayer. “Barook ah-tow ah-doughnoy…, mellek, hoalom,” meaning “Blessed are You, oh Lord, Source of Peace…” But Todd noticed that he neglected to say “Eloheinu,” the word for “Lord,” which should have followed after ah-doughnoy but before mellek hoalom. He leaned over to Pratt and whispered, “There, right there, he just made another flub; and this is a major one that I hadn’t noticed before.”
“What did he do?”
“It’s what he didn’t do that really matters. He left out the word ‘Eloheinu’ which is said just before the next word ‘mellek.’ Leaving this word out is not only unforgivable but an unnatural mistake for a Rabbi to make, considering that its meaning is ‘Lord Our God….’ This is unquestionably a major error for a Rabbi to make. Even children taking lessons for their bar mitzvah and everyone in the congregation knows how to start that prayer in Hebrew,” Todd excitedly whispered.
“Can there be an alternative explanation such as starting the service with another prayer?” Pratt asked.
“Yes, but only during certain services known as the mourner’s prayer for the deceased, called Yiskor, which may start differently. Perhaps one or two others during special Jewish holidays, but not for a normal Sabbath prayer. During every week of the year, while the Rabbi begins the service, those who’ve lost a loved one during the past twelve months stand up and say the Yiskor prayer very quietly to themselves so as not to interrupt the Rabbi. As far as I know as a lay person, all other prayers that are said in Hebrew mention Lord our God and that word is Eloheinu and he didn’t say it.”
“That is strange indeed,” said Pratt. “I think I’ll check into this a little further.” They waited until the service was over and people were on their way out to talk further. Todd shook hands with Bloom, telling him how good his sermon was today while Pratt continued to walk away.
“Thank you, Todd, I always appreciate it when my congregants can stay awake during my sermons and sometimes even enjoy them,” the Rabbi responded with a hint of sarcasm.
Todd replied in kind. “That’s fine, Neil, I take my naps when you get up to swing at the ball on the greens.”
Neil chuckled at Todd’s comment and returned inside the synagogue not seeing Todd getting into Pratt’s car.
“What do you think is going on here?” Pratt asked as he dropped Todd off at home.
“I don’t know, Detective, I don’t want to bring undue suspicion on one of my best friends. He looks and acts pretty much the same, and maybe I just didn’t notice what was on his neck before, but something just doesn’t add up.”
After hearing all of that from Stern, Johnny drove to Carol Jacobson’s home again.
“Detective Pratt, what can I do for you today?”
“I have a few more questions for you, Mrs. Jacobson.”
“Well then, go ahead and ask,” she replied.
“I know you don’t often attend the Rabbi’s services, but have you ever noticed a birthmark on his neck?”
She thought about all the times they lay naked in bed together, then decided it was best to equivocate. “I can’t say for sure, but I don't recall a mark on him before. Then again I wasn’t trying to find one. Why is that important, if I may ask?”
“You may ask, but I can’t answer that, since the investigation is still ongoing,” Pratt said. “All right then, Mrs. Jacobson, thank you very mu
ch,” and then he left and returned to the police station.
Twenty-Three
District Attorney Helen Stanford was in her late fifties, brunette, and looked somewhat like actress Helen Mirren; smooth complexion, slight of build, yet ferocious as a pit bull when she genuinely believed a suspect to be guilty of homicide.
Helen received her degree from Stanford University as a Criminal Justice major and then attended Harvard Law School, thereafter becoming an Assistant D.A.
She was the middle child of five with four brothers who were also lawyers. The oldest majored in Corporate Law, the second oldest became degreed in Contractual Law, her younger brother entered Real Estate Law, and the youngest of the family graduated with a degree in Labor Relations Law. Helen found Criminal Law most engrossing and challenging. She realized this was the only kind of law by which people’s lives are on the line.
Her father was proud of all his children, yet he felt a special pride for his daughter, knowing how difficult it had been for a woman to get to any high-status position. Her father often said about his daughter, “My sons, Helen’s brothers, had important law careers too, but no one would live or die by their mistakes in court.”
Her parents were simple unassuming people. Her father a successful veterinarian and her mother a cardiology physician’s assistant. They weren’t wealthy people but were able to assist each of their five children in paying half of their tuitions, provided they paid the other half or received a student loan. Helen had married a U.S. State Representative and had two children. The kids were twenty-one and sixteen, with the daughter being the older one, the son the younger. At these ages, Helen no longer worried about getting home early enough to feed her kids as she once did, so her work hours were now dictated by her own ambitions, which were considerable. Pratt couldn’t have asked for a better prosecutor. Especially, since she had never lost a case.
As printed in gold lettering on her glass door, “District Attorney Helen Stanford, Esq.” noticed Pratt walking past her office, called out his name and waved him inside.
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