Season of the Witch by Árni Thórarinsson

time?”
    “No, not at all. But somehow I couldn’t go on like that. I’d had enough of myself. I didn’t feel I could spend the rest of my life with Jim Beam as my only companion. You know, Jim once said to me:
I’m good company along the way, but I’m not good at being in charge.
I wanted to show Ole Jim that I’m in charge, not him. I suppose that was it…”
    “But why didn’t you go into rehab, like everyone else?”
    “Oh, I can’t do what everyone else does. I loathe uniforms. Can you imagine me in regulation pajamas, robe, and slippers?”
    She grins. “Maybe not.”
    “It’s OK. I’m doing fine.”
    Lying through my teeth.
    “Good,” says Jóa with a farewell salute.
    As I order another cappuccino I see Ásbjörn bustling across the square toward me.
Is he feeling like I did last summer, when Gunnsa went missing on our vacation?
I wonder.
    He orders a beer and takes a seat next to me, sweaty and shaky.
    “I just want to thank you again, Einar, for being so helpful to Karólína and me.”
    “I’m glad to help, Ásbjörn. I just hope it leads to something.”
    He sits in silence and drinks deeply of his beer before changing his mind and returning most of it to the glass.
    I wait for him to speak.
    He takes another drink, a big one, swallowing this time. “I, um…,” he mumbles, then clears his throat. “I…Something odd is happening, Einar. I know we haven’t been close friends—far from it. I know you find me…how can I put this…”
    “Not necessarily the best company?”
    “Yes, that’ll do. And the feeling is mutual. But I want to ask your views on something…” He hesitates. “Something odd is happening. I’m getting mysterious phone calls. At work and at home. Sometimes at night.”
    “Ah,” I remark. I lean toward him across the table, my curiosity aroused. “What’s so mysterious about these calls?”
    “The person always hangs up when I answer. Karólína has answered twice, and those were hang-ups too. It’s driving her crazy.”
    “Do you have caller ID?”
    “Yes, but it just says
unknown number
.”
    “Isn’t it possible that you’re using a phone number that someone else had before? That the caller’s trying to reach another person?”
    Ásbjörn takes another sip of his beer.
    “And it could be more than one person trying to reach them?”
    “Yes, I’ve considered that. Thousands of times. But it doesn’t make sense. Then I wouldn’t be getting calls at work too. Those phone numbers are new.”
    I have a thought. “That’s true. Have you spoken to your policeman buddy?”
    He shakes his head.
    “Have you any idea who it could be? Can you think of anyone?”
    As I finish speaking, the café door is flung open, and the good ship Karólína steams over to our table. I don’t like the expression on her face, but Ásbjörn has his back to her and doesn’t notice the trouble heading our way.
    “What is the meaning of this!” she shrieks.
    Taken aback, Ásbjörn awkwardly struggles to his feet.
    “Little Pal’s missing, and you sit here at the bar enjoying a beer! I just don’t know…”
    “But Karó dear, it’s only a half-pint of beer…”
    I haven’t heard his nickname for his wife before.
    “…and I haven’t even drunk half…”
    “You half-wit! You’re coming with me right now, Ásbjörn Grímsson, to help me search. I’m speechless…”
    And with that, Ásbjörn Grímsson is led away in custody.
    I’ve just gotten back to my desk, and I’m about to pick up the phone to call the hospital when the goddamned cell phone starts yapping at me.
    “Listen, great doggy detective,” cackles Trausti Löve, “are you forgetting
Question of the Day
? It was supposed to be in an hour ago.”
    Son of a bitch.
    “Ohhh,” I groan. “Yes, I’d forgotten that ridiculous bullshit. I’ve been toiling away all weekend and all day. Can’t you let me off…?”
    “Nope. You can’t get out of it. It was discussed and decided. Once a week, on