Bought the Farm

by Wendy Meadows

  Mary felt proud of herself as she continued to spin her story. “We began working with the French movement after the Germans invaded France. You see…my…cousin lives in France.”

  Agent Green stared at Mary and listened. “Your cousin?” he asked.

  Mary nodded her head. “My cousin and her…husband…live in Paris,” Mary continued. “They both joined the French movement and asked me and my husband to help them.”

  “How?” Agent Green demanded.

  Mary threw her eyes down at her hands. “Uh…by sending them information…military information.” Mary continued. “I have a…nephew that’s in the army. He collects information for me and we pass it on to the French. Emma was sent to collect the information.”

  Agent Green worked on his Lucky Strike. “Keep talking,” he ordered Mary.

  “Farmer Griffith was using his farm to hide French spies,” Mary told Agent Green with a glance up at the clock. It wouldn’t be long before her own troops arrived. She had to keep Agent Green distracted.

  “That’s why the man named you out on the note he wrote?”

  “Yes,” Mary confessed to another lie. “We were aware that…an outside enemy was moving in on us. Farmer Griffith feared that the children were in danger.”

  “Because the children stole Miss Charron’s briefcase she hid in the barn…the barn that burned down.”

  “Yes,” Mary told Agent Green. “Farmer Griffith was afraid you would go after the children if you— ” Mary quickly threw a few pieces of wood together, “…if you…managed to catch Emma and get the truth out of her.”

  Agent Green grew silent and began evaluating every word Mary had confessed. It appeared to his eyes that the woman was speaking the truth, yet his gut wasn’t so certain. He reminded himself that Mary was a very clever woman who had managed to dodge his bullets all day and all night. He had failed to assassinate her character. He had failed to turn her own people into an angry mob. He had failed in intimidating her. He had even failed to shoot her. Sure, in the end, Mary had made a fatal mistake and returned for the sheriff, which Agent Green assumed she would do, but his victory was small compared to the major battle he had been fighting. But a victory was a victory. Only, Agent Green wasn’t so sure victory was within his grasp. Mary’s confession wasn’t sitting well in his gut; not at all.

  “I want names, locations, and attack plans,” he snapped at Mary. “Now!”

  Mary watched Agent Green aim his gun at her. “Names…locations…attacks plans…” She gulped and yelled at her mind to think, but her mind drew a blank. Staring at the barrel of a gun had that effect on some people.

  “Now!” Agent Green yelled again and threw his cigarette down. “Who was your husband sending information to, Mrs. Holland? What location in France is the underground movement located? Where are they planning to attack next? I want answers!”

  Mary stared at Agent Green’s gun. She feared her end had come. Then, out of nowhere, an idea struck her.

  “I’ll tell you what you want to know only after I get a cup of coffee. It’s been a long day and I’m not saying another word until I get a hot cup of coffee.” Mary stubbornly folded her arms and put on her “determined woman’s” face that let any man know he was fighting a losing battle.

  Agent Green lowered his gun. “One cup,” he growled and looked around the office. “Where is the coffee pot?”

  “Uh…coffee pot…sure,” Mary said and sighed. “At the diner,” she confessed and then winced. “You wouldn’t be willing to walk down to the diner and get a girl a cup of coffee, would you?”

  Agent Green raised his gun again. “Mrs. Holland, you are lying to me. My patience with you has come to an end. Now you will die!”

  Mary felt the color drain from her face. “Oh, John, I’m going to miss you,” she whispered and prepared to be shot.

  Before Agent Green could fire his gun, a shadowy figure appeared in the office doorway. “Oh no you don’t!” Betty yelled and shoved Agent Green as hard as she could. Agent Green went flying forward, crashed down in front of the desk, and felt his gun slip out of his hand. “Run, Mary!” Betty shrieked.

  Mary jumped to her feet and raced over to Betty. “I thought you were in bed asleep,” she said to Betty.

  “I was, but then I woke up and remembered I forgot my pen,” Betty told Mary. She pulled Mary out into the hallway, slammed the office door shut, and locked it with a spare key just as Agent Green got to his feet.

  “Come on,” Mary said. She grabbed Betty’s hand and ran down the hallway and into the wide room holding four work desks and stopped. “Betty, we have to keep Agent Green inside the paper. Heather is mobilizing a small army. Mitch is going to get the sheriff, and Emma should be here soon.”

  “Okay,” Betty said in a simple voice. She lifted her left hand up. “I have my pen.”

  Mary felt a grin touch her lips. Good ol’ Betty. “Thank goodness you forgot your pen,” she said as she heard Agent Green begin kicking the office door. “He’s trying to get out.”

  Betty nodded her head. “Yes, Mary, that’s what it sounds like. I hope you make him pay for the door.”

  “I doubt he will,” Mary informed Betty and took her eyes to a door leading out to the back alley. She ran to the door, swung it open, stuck her head out into a dark alley, and looked to her left and then to her right. Emma was nowhere in sight.

  “Oh, I guess Emma took her papers and ran,” Mary said in a disappointed, hurt voice. “I really believed she would—” Mary stopped talking when she heard the sound of a motorcycle approaching in the distance. “Emma’s here.” She happily clapped her hands and motioned for Betty to run into the alley. But before Betty could reach the door, Agent Green kicked the office door in, fired a shot at the ceiling, and stopped Betty in her tracks.

  “Don’t move, Betty!” Mary said.

  Agent Green aimed his gun at Mary. “Get away from the door!” he yelled.

  Mary backed away from the door but didn’t close it. She wasn’t sure if Agent Green had heard Emma’s motorcycle or not. It appeared that he hadn’t. “You’re going to pay for my office door,” she told Agent Green, pulling Betty behind her back.

  Agent Green had had enough of Mary Holland. The woman was good and sour to him. He regretted even wasting his time and energy on her. Nothing good had come of chasing the woman down and shaking her for answers. He would capture Emma—somehow—and get real answers. But first, he would kill Mary and Betty, wait for Mitch to return with the papers, and clean up his mess.

  “Mrs. Holland, in a war of ideas, only the most aggressive soldiers come out holding the victory flag,” he told Mary as he prepared to fire.

  “No!” a voice yelled.

  “What?” Agent Green looked around. He spotted the figure of a woman appear in the door leading into the alley. The woman squatted down, aimed a gun at him, and fired off three bullets. The last thing Agent Vince Green, aka Eberhart Kruger, saw before falling into an eternal black nightmare was the victorious grin on Mary Holland’s face.

  Mary let go of Betty, turned around, and hugged Emma. “Oh, I knew you would come back!” she cried.

  Emma wrapped her arms around Mary and hugged her back. “The evil is dead…at least one of them,” she said. “Now, Mary, I must go, yes.”

  Mary let go of Emma and looked into her eyes. Outside she heard a group of people approaching the paper. “That will be my army,” she told Emma.

  Emma reached out and wiped Mary’s tears away. “Do not cry, Mary Holland. Our friendship will be forever, yes? Someday when the war is over I will come back to your town for coffee.”

  Mary stared at Emma. She saw a single tear appear in the woman’s eyes. Mary realized the tear was for Emma’s parents and for all the people suffering under the heavy hand of war. “Don’t cry, Emma Charron, because you are loved,” she said and wiped Emma’s tear away. “Now, go.”

  “You will not try to stop me?” Emma asked. “I am a spy, yes? It is your duty to stop me
.”

  “No,” Mary told Emma, “it’s my duty to defend life, liberty, and freedom.” Mary kissed Emma on her cheek. “When the war is over, please come back.”

  Emma smiled, and like a puff of smoke, she vanished into the night. Mary sighed and closed the back door.

  Betty was staring at her with wide eyes. “You let a spy go, Mary. My goodness, what a thing to do.”

  “Emma isn’t a spy,” Mary told Betty, putting her arm around her. “Emma Charron is a brave soldier.” Mary walked Betty past Agent Green’s body and made her way outside, where a lady wearing a pink fuzzy bathrobe was leading a group of confused men and women up the front sidewalk.

  “We’re here, hon,” Heather called out to Mary. “We heard gunshots. Is everything okay?”

  “Everything is fine.” Mary smiled and hugged Heather. Then she spotted Sheriff Mables running up the sidewalk with Mitch at his side. “Everything is just fine.”

  Sheriff Mables hurried up to Mary and caught his breath. “I heard gunshots.”

  “Agent Green is inside, Sheriff. He’s dead.”

  “Dead,” Heather gasped and turned around to face the confused eyes staring at her. “Okay, folks, show is over. We can all go home now.”

  Sheriff Mables looked at Mary. “Where is the other spy?” he asked.

  “Other spy?” Heather gasped. She turned back to the faces preparing to go home. “Hold on a minute, folks, the show ain’t over yet. We have two spies on our hands.”

  Mary glanced at Betty. “Sheriff, I can’t really say where the other spy is, can you, Betty?”

  Betty held up a pen. “I found my pen,” she told Sheriff Mables and let out a crooked, silly smile.

  Heather threw up her hands. “Okay, folks, the show is really over this time. Let’s all go home.”

  Mary let out a sweet giggle and hugged Betty. Good ol’ Betty.

  “Well, if apples aren’t red,” Sheriff Mables fussed and rushed inside the paper.

  Mary walked over to Mitch, took his hand, and smiled. “Come on, Mitch, I’m sure your folks are getting tired of being locked in a closet.”

  “Boy,” Mitch said in an excited voice, “is Chuck Lawson going to turn green. Golly, he sure is.”

  As Mary walked away, a shadowy figure appeared on the roof of the paper. Emma watched Mary walk down the sidewalk with Mitch and Betty. “Friends for life, yes,” she said and disappeared.

  Chapter 10

  Mary tapped a pen against the typewriter sitting on her desk, trying to decide how to begin the story of a lifetime. Her mind was rested, her belly was full, and she was wearing a fresh pink and white dress that wasn’t soaking wet or torn. The dress was a present from Dave and Marla Anderson, who decided to relocate to a new town far, far away from Pineville.

  “How to begin the story?” Mary asked herself, and then heard Betty knock on the office door. “Come in, Betty.”

  Betty opened a new door that she didn’t like very much. The old office door Agent Green had kicked in was much nicer. But now wasn’t the time to complain. “Mary…there’s an Agent Michael Price here to see you.”

  “Another agent?” Mary asked.

  “He’s from the FBI,” Betty whispered and moved aside as a tall, thin man wearing a dark gray suit appeared in the doorway. The man had a stone face and hard eyes. The first thought that went through Mary’s mind was that she was about to go to war with another Agent Green. But then Agent Price let out a warm smile.

  “I’m not from the FBI,” Price told Betty in a warm voice.

  “Oh, I thought…I saw the suit…I assumed…” Betty fumbled over her words.

  “Mrs. Holland, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Michael Price. I’m with the War Department.”

  “Oh, the War Department,” Mary said and felt her stomach sink. “My husband,” she gasped in panic even though Michael Price was still smiling.

  Michael held up his hand. “Mrs. Holland, as far as I know, your husband is fine. I’m here,” he said as he removed a gray fedora, revealing thick gray hair, “because I want to talk to you about Eberhart Kruger.”

  “Uh, Betty, will you leave us alone, please?” Mary asked.

  “It’s almost lunchtime,” Betty said in a nervous voice. “I’ll go to the diner and eat lunch if that’s okay, Mary.”

  “That’s fine, honey.”

  Betty quickly closed the door and hurried down the hallway to tell William and Millie about the man from the War Department.

  “She’s a strange woman.” Michael smiled. He reached into his front pocket and pulled out a pipe. “Do you mind?”

  Mary shook her head no. “By all means,” she said and leaned back in her chair.

  Michael lit his pipe and sent the smell of cherry tobacco into the stuffy office air. Then he pointed at the radio sitting on Mary’s desk. “I like that tune.”

  “Harry James and his Orchestra make good music,” Mary told Michael. Then it occurred to her that she had been listening to Harry James and his Orchestra the same day Agent Green arrived. Only now a good man was standing in her office instead of a bad man.

  “Mrs. Holland,” Michael said, “I need to know everything Eberhart Kruger told you. Not only myself but General Eisenhower.”

  “General Eisenhower?” Mary gasped.

  Michael nodded. “Mrs. Holland, we have been aware for quite some time that there are faulty men within our government—men working to destroy the very fabric of our country by changing the course of the war. Eberhart Kruger is just one of many. However, if you are able to tell me every word that man said to you, perhaps we can make some form of progress. You see, Mrs. Holland, and this information is not to leave this room, we are planning a major invasion next year. Of course, this information can never be made public. We want to catch the Germans by surprise. But that is becoming very, very difficult to do. That’s why I need you to tell me about Eberhart Kruger.”

  Mary leaned forward and folded her hands together. “Mr. Price, I will be more than happy to tell you every single word that snake spoke to me.”

  Michael sat down in a chair, worked on his pipe, and listened to Mary talk. To his relief, the woman was able to go into exquisite detail. By the time Mary finished talking, more than two hours had passed. “I hope I’ve been helpful.”

  “You have indeed, Mrs. Holland.” Michael smiled at Mary. He stood up and tapped her typewriter. “Unfortunately, this is one story that you can’t write.”

  “Oh, pooh,” Mary fussed. “After all I’ve been through, too.”

  Michael smiled again. “Well, let’s just call it even. After all, letting a foreign spy go free is a serious offense. Oh yes, we have our ways of knowing,” Michael told Mary. “But don’t worry, Mrs. Holland, Emma Charron is back home in France with a little bit more information than she expected, compliments of the United States government.”

  Mary furrowed her brow. “I don’t understand.”

  Michael put his pipe away. “Let’s just say, Mrs. Holland, that the French Underground Military Movement is very useful to us and that Emma Charron belongs on the front line and not behind bars.” Michael put his hat back on and walked to the office door. He opened it and waved a hand at Mary. “Mrs. Holland, it has been a pleasure.”

  “I suppose it has.” Mary let out a tired smile. She waved goodbye to Agent Michael Price and then stood up. “I guess I’ll go see if Betty wants to have a slice of pie with me.”

  Mary walked out of her office and found Betty sitting at her desk proofreading a piece Millie had written. “I’m hungry for pie. You want to come with me to the diner, honey?”

  Betty looked up from her work. “Millie is really getting better,” she told Mary. “There were only four mistakes in her piece this time.”

  “That’s good, honey,” Mary told Betty. “Where is Millie, anyway?”

  “She is at the high school interviewing Mrs. Brook.”

  “Oh, that’s right, this is the week Mrs. Brook starts using her new lunch me
nu. Every kid in town is raising a fuss about it, too,” Mary said.

  Betty stood up from her desk and nearly tripped and fell into Mary. “Oh, I’m such a klutz.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that, honey.” Mary smiled and looked down at the bright yellow dress Betty was wearing. The dress made Betty look like a lemon. Mary let out a giggle and hugged Betty’s shoulder. “Come on, I’ll buy you a piece of pie.”

  “Wait a minute,” Betty said. She turned to her desk, grabbed her pen, and placed it inside her green purse. “I can’t forget my pen.”

  “No, you sure can’t, honey.” Mary laughed and walked Betty down to the diner.

  As Mary and Betty talked over blueberry pie, a strange car drove into town, eased past the paper, and then sped away. The person driving the car drove to Mary’s house, parked, got out, walked up to the front door, stuck a note in the door, and then left.

  Later that evening, when Mary returned home from the paper, she found the note stuck in the front door. She removed the piece of paper and read the words inside.

  “Oh my,” she gasped. She rushed inside her house, slammed the front door, locked it, and ran upstairs. “Oh my, oh my,” Mary kept saying over and over again as she began searching for her suitcase. “I have to get out of town. I have to get out of town…oh my, I have to get out of town.”

  As Mary searched for her suitcase, the strange car pulled up in front of her house. A mysterious figure got out of the car, walked up to the front door, and rang the doorbell.

  Mary froze. “Oh my.” She winced, dropping down onto the floor and crawling under her bed. “Go away, go away…oh please, go away,” she begged.

  Out on the front porch, the mysterious figure smiled and rang the doorbell again.