Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 71 — page 93: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION “I guess so.” Stanley shrugged. “I’ve sent off the waggon and the photogs. Doc Lancing is riding with the meat waggon. We won’t know for sure until he gets through withhisexamination.” “It’s murder,” said Mark decisively. He glared at the lieutenant. ““Why didn’t you tell me this immediately ?” “Does it matter?’ Stanley looked genuinely surprised. “The stiff isn’t going to get up and walk away.” Mark snorted and led the way from the office. The city dump was a ten- acre stretch of rubbish half- filling the open maw of a worked-out sand pit. Trucks from the city tipped their debris into the water, ming- ling broken bricks, builders’ rubble and factory trash with the general garbage and junk collected by the city. A small bulldozer, red and yellow, squatted in silence close to a shack made of clapboard and corrugated iron. The shack ‘looked as if a high wind 92 would blow it back to the rubbish from which it had been built. A rusty stove pipe stuck up from one corner — and a litter of old iron, salvaged timber, bricks and mouldy rags surrounded it. A little way from the shack, close to the edge of the stag- nant water, a cluster of men and vehicles gave life to a desolate scene. “This is it,” said Stanley. He jerked open the door of the car, stepped to the ground and waited for Mark to join him. Together, they moved towards the knot of men. There wasn’t much to see. Some rubbish had been moved and a man’s shoe and trous- ered leg stuck towards the water. Mark stared at it, glanced around to see if the photographers had recorded the scene, then gave orders for the rest of the body to be uncovered. As the uniformed police worked he singled out the watchman. Old Joe McQuire looked as filthy as the rubbish dump which he had made his home. COMIC SOOK<S.COMn