Free The Housewife Assassin's Killer Christmas Tips by Josie Brown

“I need you to dial Melmud’s bodyguard as if it’s coming from Melmud, and give him a message.”
    Arnie pauses. “Why would I do that?”
    “Because I’m in the middle of interrogating this creep, and the guard is standing right outside the door! I can’t have Melmud answer him out loud. He’s in a trance! No telling what he might say! I need the guard to get a text message telling him to scram! But to be authentic, it’ll have to be in Arabic, and my bandwidth doesn’t stretch that far.”
    “Don’t worry, piece of cake. And I’ll make sure the caller ID will show Melmud’s phone. Just text me what you want it to say.”
    I think for a moment before sending him this:
     
    While she is smart and beautiful and surely would make a fine and pious mother, I still have my doubts that this woman is a natural blonde. I am testing my theory now. If the door is still closed when we land, no one is to disturb us! When I am done, I will meet you by the limo. Allah willing, my bride is flaxen and therefore worthy to accompany us to Montecito. Oh, by the way, the next time Oprah’s dogs take a dump in the yard, shoot them.
     
    The chirp outside the door tells me the bodyguard has gotten Arnie’s message. A moment later I hear Melmud’s thug murmur, “Yes, General,” in Arabic, before trudging back to the cockpit.
    I breathe a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Arnie.”
    “Glad it did the trick. But, Donna, what the heck was that stuff about Oprah’s dogs?”
    “I needed to add a tinge of authenticity to the message. Trust me, it did the trick.”
    I click off and shake Melmud back into interrogation mode. “Tell me, quick. Where is the shipment from Libya right now?”
    “The Quorum infidels would not tell me. To hide this knowledge from me, they spoke in French. But they did not realize I speak it, too. All I know is that it is coming in by ship. From a toymaker.” A sly smile rises on his lips. “And by the way, the female infidel really did have a butt like Pippa. But by her amorous moves with her partner, I am guessing she is no virgin.”
    Valentina’s a slut, and Carl enjoys it? No surprise there. And for the record, this dude has no idea what he’s talking about. No way does her bum look better than mine!
    His cruel cackle puts me back on task. “Why should I care, anyway, when the cargo arrives? The less I know about it, the better. I’ve worked too hard establishing my excellent new identity as a successful self-help guru from Dubai. I’m working on my book now. It is called Don’t Worry, Be Happy: Six Must-Do Moves to Being a Better You . I have no doubt it will be a sure-fire bestseller! I will leave it in Oprah’s mailbox, and she will love it and build a whole television network around its teachings.” Obviously, the truth drug has made him delusional. “I love Oprah. And I love Julia Louis-Dreyfus. Did you know she lives nearby? I love Seinfeld, too. I wonder if he ever visits Elaine.”
    I hear the vibration of the plane’s wheels dropping. Time to wrap up our little tête-a-tête, and it couldn’t come a second sooner. Hanging out with this guy is driving me nuts.
    I force him to sip again from his glass.  A moment later, he drifts off to sleep. By the time Melmud’s bodyguard shakes him awake, I’ll be just a pleasant memory.
    I’ll also be brunette again, and long gone.
    The plane’s landing is smooth as silk. As planned, Jack is there waiting on the tarmac. The credentials he presents to the flight crew and the bodyguard identify him as the field office director of the Santa Barbara County branch of the Immigration and Naturalization Services.
    The bodyguard turns white under his swarthy tan. The last thing he wants is for the INS to question him about his passport, or Melmud’s, for that matter.
    On the other hand, he’ll gladly step aside so that Jack can take me off the plane in handcuffs. Here’s a shocker. Turns out, I’m not a virgin after all. Apparently, “Nadia” has