Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 66 — page 53: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION teries. You know what I mean ?”’ *‘Who better ?”’ The sergeant stared at his ranked files. ““We find most of them. Sometimes it takes years, but we find them. Some we never find. Some just—vanish. No reason. Nothing. They just disappear.” ‘Like the man who walked around the horses?’ Sam nodded. “T’ll keep in touch,” he promised. “No ob- jections ?”’ “‘Why should there be?’ The sergeant shrugged. *“You’ve got to eat.”’ He didn’t ask why, but his expression did, the inevitable contempt of the professional for the amateur, the skilled man for the bungler. Sam didn’t let it annoy him. Tramping then. Walking from door to door, from office to office, asking, questioning, smiling and polite. Clothing a skeleton with flesh, filling in the gaps, searching for the one thing which could have made’a humdrum clod kick over the traces and cut free 92 from the habit pattern of thirty years. A cafe, a waitress who remembered, and a fact. “Mr. Johnson?” She frowned at the photograph. “Yes, I remember him. A quiet man, never tipped, but always patient. Favourite food? Well, he nearly always had cheese on toast or spag- hetti. Newspaper ? The Tribune I think and two cups of coffee, © one with and one after his meal.” Fact: Liked cheese and spaghetti. Two cups of coffee and read The Tribune. The office with furtive-eyed men and simpering girls. A man whoremembered, another fact. “Jud? Hell, yes, I know him. Quiet type. Never one for a drink. Used to have a sly bet sometimes. I used to put it on for him. Win? Some- times, but not often, just about enough to stay even. Women? Not that I know of. Conversation? Nothing special Home and garden, comiclooks.cormn