Mystery of the Sassafras Chair Read Free Page A

deputy left. There was a great deal to be done before dark. The colonel said, “If you kids will take care of things here, I’ll go up to the spring and turn on the water.”
    The colonel departed up the misty slope with tools and a flashlight. While Odessa cleaned, Timor connected the refrigerator and turned on the lights. The water heater, which had been drained for the winter, would have to wait until it was safely filled before he plugged it in. He was closing the fuse box when he noticed a fresh smear across the dusty cover. It suddenly occurred to him that whoever had turned on the lights last night must know the cabin well—for the fuse box was hidden in a cramped cabinet where no one would have thought to look for it.
    He was puzzling about this as he brought in their luggage from the station wagon. Odessa said, “Do you think Mr. Gatlin was right in believing someone stored liquor here?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThen why would anyone come in last night?”
    â€œI—I don’t know yet, but there’s a reason. Something’s different here.”
    â€œI don’t see anything different.”
    â€œWell, something is.”
    She shook her head. “Honestly, Timmy, I don’t know what to make of you at times. Are you still convinced that Wiley didn’t have anything to do with what happened at the Forks?”
    â€œI’m absolutely sure he didn’t.”
    She sighed. “It doesn’t make sense, but I know you too well to say you’re wrong. If you feel a thing, then that’s that. Timmy, wasn’t there something in the paper about Rance Gatlin?”
    â€œYes. He’s one of the deputies who chased Wiley that night. He drove the car.”
    â€œOh. Wouldn’t he be able to give you some information if you had a talk with him?”
    He shook his head. “That man wouldn’t tell me anything.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œHe’s the kind that never says what he’s thinking.”
    â€œHow about the other deputy—what’s his name?”
    â€œThe sheriff’s wife called him Brad. I believe the paper said his last name was James. I saw him in the courthouse. He wouldn’t be of any help—not to me, anyway. When you’re a stranger, and sort of a foreigner …”
    â€œI know. Some people up here are friendly, but others just stare at you. It was that way when I was shopping.”
    She shivered in the growing chill. He said, “I’d better get a fire going.”
    It was nearly dark when he went outside for wood. He brought in several loads, and soon had a fire blazing cheerfully in the big stone fireplace. It transformed the cabin.
    â€œWater’s on,” Odessa announced. “I’ll fix something to eat. It’ll have to be out of cans—I’m too tired to cook anything tonight.”
    Timor set the table, then stood frowning at the chairs flanking the fireplace. “Dessa,” he asked suddenly, “how many ladderback chairs do we have here?”
    â€œOnly two. Don’t you remember? I bought them in Asheville when Daddy first brought us to the cabin. One went to your room, and I put the other by the fireplace.”
    â€œWell, we’ve got three now.”
    â€œBut that’s impossible!” She came in from the kitchen and looked quickly at the two chairs. “Those are the two I bought. One of us must have brought your chair in here last fall. How do you make three out of it?”
    â€œBecause there’s a chair in my room. I thought it was the one that had been in there all the time—until I noticed these.”
    He hurried down the hall, suddenly excited, and switched on the lights in his room. The room was too small to contain anything but a bed, a chest, a table, and a single chair. And there was the chair—a polished ladderback, placed by the table where a chair had always been.
    Timor stared. Earlier he hadn’t