Haggopian and Other Stories

Slater had been in the office Monday, mumbling something about a court appearance Tuesday, had disappeared midday and didn’t show up again until Wednesday when he looked in his pigeonhole and found nothing. Thursday he successfully “warned off” a blackmailer (a loathsome creature who had demanded sex for silence) with a threat, turned the thing over to the police, and delivered his report to Dexter who seemed well satisfied. Friday, payday, and Slater was in again and his nose looked less puffy; less blooming, so that Paynter guessed he’d been keeping clear of the booze.

That lunchtime, however, they did have a beer and a sandwich together. “Been doing some reading,” Paynter opened, having decided that his interest wouldn’t be misconstrued.

“Wonderful!” said Slater, in that dull, booming Bob Mitchum way of his. “Never knew you had it in you. It’ll be ’riting and ’rithmatic next.”

“No,” Paynter grinned, “I mean seriously. In connection with your missing person.”

“Eh?” Slater was at once suspicious.

Paynter held up a hand. “Not on the job—just background stuff. You did say that background was all-important. Stuff on H. P. Lovecraft, the Mythos Circle writers. Stuff about Cthulhu…”

“Old Tootle-tootle?”

“Do it how you like,” said Paynter. “Cthulhu’s good enough for me.”

“Cthul who?”

“Also some Charles Fort stuff,” Paynter ignored him. “Really weird.”

“And Von Daniken?” Slater raised a natural-born sceptic’s eyebrow. “UFO’s? How about Lobsam Rampa and Rambling Sid Rumbold?”

“I said I’m being serious,” Paynter insisted.

Slater nodded. “I can see you are. And how about me? Have I been wasting my time or something?”

“You’ve been reading the same stuff?” Paynter was surprised. “I mean, I only started because I found it interesting, and because—” He paused.

“Because you wanted to help? Because you thought people had been down on me and you were my friend? Well, thanks for the fact that you’re my friend, but no thanks for the sympathy. We all get what we ask for in life. As for your research: I skimmed all that stuff you mentioned, but when I discovered that Lovecraft himself derided it…anyway, I got the overall picture. And that’s what I wanted: to discover what it is about this stuff that switches the kids on. So why did they like Dracula or Frankenstein? Same story: when you’re young you need something that grips the imagination. A pity they have to grow up. As soon as the sap starts rising, to hell with the imagination! That’s when they start looking to get the other bits gripped! So much for the background, but the job itself is more basic. I’ve looked at things like recent Interpol missing persons lists, tried to come up with possible motives, doublechecked lists of attendees at the various conventions, made or tried to make a couple of connections—”

“Connections?”

“Sure,” said Slater. “Like—how these disappearances are connected. Or are they entirely coincidental? And where does the common factor of RPG Conventions come into it? And if there really is a crazed kidnapper or murderer on the loose, well…obviously he or she connects in both Milan and Berne. So I might find his or her name on both of those lists. See what I mean? A jigsaw isn’t a picture until all the bits connect up. The bits are there, it’s putting them together that gives the thing perspective.”

“And do like names appear on both lists?” Paynter was fascinated.

Slater nodded. “You know some of them do. Hans Guttmeier for one. He was scheduled to appear in Berne after the Milan con. Strike Guttmeier, for of course he’s a victim. Likewise, obviously, Antonio Minatelli. But then there’s a couple of others…”

Paynter leaned closer. “Oh?”

“Like Cindy Patterson, yes. She’s a young American, a publisher who produces the games and associated products. She controls a lot of rights, and she’s heavily into spreading her empire abroad. A shrewd young lady. She’s also the moving force behind the conventions, helps coordinate them. That’s why they fall so conveniently, with gaps of a couple of weeks in between, so that she and a couple of guys from her outfit can hop from one to the next without overlapping. Also to enable her to spend a week or so in each location, promoting her stuff. The Americans are big on advertising, you know? And it seems this RPG thing is rapidly becoming big business.”

“And you think these Americans are connected, right?”

Slater pursed his lips, slowly shook his head. “If they are, I really can’t see how. What? They should run around killing off their future livelihood?”

“A spot of judicial culling?”

Slater frowned. “Where’s the motive? These were fans. They weren’t rival publishers, weren’t exerting pressures. Guttmeier was a top player, he was good advertising! And Minatelli was nuts on Moribund’s stuff.”

“Moribund?”