Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 66 — page 51: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION Perhaps a glimpse of what he had become and a recoiling from it. Perhaps anything. “Tl contact you when I have investigated,” he said formally. “I have all the details, I think. Your address, the address of your husband’s place of business. Savings account, friends, background, personal history.” He rose and held out his hand. “Don’t worry, madam. I’ll find him.” She smiled at that, a twist- ing of her lips and a gleam of something, not humour, in her eyes. Primly, she gathered up her handbag, adjusted her - coat, nodded, and left the office. Sam wished that he could get the taste of her from his mouth. It was routine, of course; it always was. First to the mis- sing persons bureau, where he did for. money what she could have done free—and found that she had already done it. To a big, tired, cynical sergeant with numer- ous files and a wide-flung web 50 of contacts. A man who had spent most of his life looking for an answer—and still not finding it. “Jud Everet Johnson ?”’ The sergeant nodded as he riffled through the pages of his ledger. “I remember, now. A missing husband case.” He squinted down at his book. “Gone ten days now.” He stared at Sam. ““What’s your interest?” “T’ve been asked to find him.” “So you think you can succeed where we fail?’ ““No.”’ Sam found cigarettes and passed one to the big man. Blue smoke rose between them like incense to the Gods of routine and the inexplicable. He smiled. ““You know how it is. The woman is impatient, can’t even begin to guess why it happened to her. Wants her husband back again so she can restore her nice, quiet, orderly world to untarnished respectability. You know how it is.” “I know.” The sergeant dragged at his cigarette. comicloooks.com