THE ACCIDENTAL EXORCIST

THE ACCIDENTAL EXORCIST Part 4

The peculiarities of Cheryl Morgan's case and the others in the N.O.S. files soon became an all-encompassing pursuit for information, now that Abby felt free to investigate. But she had driven herself so hard, that when she saw her doctor for her annual check-up, he ordered her to take her first vacation in over five years.

"To put it bluntly," he had said, "Take a week off or you'll kill yourself." Today was the first day of her vacation and dammit, she was going to enjoy it.

Or die trying.

Do nothing, go nowhere, study nothing, just relax and enjoy the view of the beach from her deck-something she never took enough time to do (such a shame.) Now, as seagulls sang their plaintive songs, while the tall verdant fronds of Queen Palms swayed in the cool afternoon breeze, she sat back, bathed in the sun, shut her eyes and told herself it was more than okay to enjoy some "me" time.

There was nothing more liberating than sipping Oolong Tea in her patio chair, bare feet up on the teakwood bistro table, reading the New York Times on her shiny new Kindle, and for all intents and purposes, disconnected from work.

Nothing could remove her from this much needed serenity.

Except her iPhone buzzing like an angry hornet in her robe pocket.

"Oh, come on."

The caller ID read: BLOCKED.

As it continued to buzz, she thought about answering it. But that would defeat the purpose of her vacation at home, wouldn't it? She pressed the ignore button and relegated it to voicemail. "There. All better." If it was important, they'd leave a message-which she would consider returning after she checked it.

A few seconds later, the new voicemail alert chimed.

No. I'll check you later.

Tonight.

Maybe.

In the headlines: President Obama passes legislation for yet another stimulus package, 7.2 Earthquake rocks Tijuana, and finally...concert reviews. Twelve year old prodigy pianist, Austin Lee debuts with ew York Philharmonic. Her favorite nephew from Philadelphia, in the New York Times! Eagerly, Abby scrolled to see if the critics loved him or...

The iPhone buzzed again.

Again: BLOCKED

Annoyed, she sent it to voicemail again. This time she wondered if it might really be important. With her thumb on the "slide to unlock" button, she almost relented and checked the voice mail. But this was the first day of her vacation. Start answering calls now and she might as well go into the office.

Back to the review.

 AUSTIN LEE amazes audiences with Brahms Piano Concerto No. 2 in Bb.

 Nice headline. She scrolled down to the first paragraph:

 When the dark-haired boy first sat down at the bench before the 9 foot Steinway concert grand in Avery Fischer Hall last night, it seemed the entire audience held their collective breath. Could this child of twelve pull off such a mature work as Brahms' Second Piano Concerto?

The Philharmonic began the concerto with its regal French Horn solo, and right away Mr. Lee, as student of Leon Fleisher at the Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia, joined in duet with majestic, rising arpeggios, ushering in the fiery opening, which decades ago, his teacher made so famous in his recording with the Cleveland Orchestra under the baton of George Szell.

Despite Mr. Lee's slight frame, he feet barely reaching the pedals-Once again, the phone buzzed.

For a moment, Abby felt tempted to launch it out over the patio into the Pacific, committing it to the depths. But when she thought of the five or six hundred dollars it would take to replace it, she refrained.

The caller ID was blocked again.

"All right, all right," she muttered and took the call. "Hello?"

"Doctor Lee?"

"Yes, who is this?"

"I'm sorry to call so many times, but you haven't been answering."

"That's because I'm on vacation. Now, who is this?"

"I'm Father Thomas McGhee of St. Ignatius Church in Del Mar."

"McGhee?" The name sounded familiar.

His voice, though deep and otherwise strong, became panicked. "Look, I wouldn't have troubled you, but something's happened and she's been asking for you."

"Wait, slow down." Abby stood, pulled the belt of her white terrycloth robe tighter around her waist and pressed her finger in her open ear so as to hear him over the rude cawing of a crow on the rails of a patio two apartments over. "What's happened and who's asking for me?"

"He killed himself. We came back here and just found him...Dear Lord, I can't believe this is happening again!"

"Father McGhee, would you please calm down? What are you talking about!"

"I've already called 911, but she's beside herself, locked herself in a room."

By his tone of voice, she knew he must be in his mid to late sixties, too old and too frantic for a prank call. "All right, just take a few deep breaths, okay? Now try and answer my questions, I'll ask them slowly."

He took a breath. "Okay."

"Now, first: Who just killed himself?"

"Teddy! Oh my...it's just awful. We found him hanging from the second floor balustrade out in the backyard."

"Teddy who?"

"Teddy Morgan, I just can't believe he'd-"

"Wait, Teddy-?"

"Cheryl Morgan's husband!" It felt as though someone had poured a pitcher of ice water down her back. In the background, Cheryl began shrieking hysterically: No, no, no! Oh God, please, no!

"Doctor Lee, could you please come on down here right now? I'm afraid she's going to hurt herself."

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TO BE CONTINUED

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