The Bo(d)y Next Door: An Alison Brown Mystery

By Denise Malone

All single girl Alison Brown really needs is to spend a week on the beach with her best friend, Frankie.

But instead of margaritas and sunscreen, she gets a murder next door and death threats.

Now, she's involved in a police investigation while trying to save her own neck and get the heck out of Dodge. And to top it all off, the hot new neighbor, Poindexter "Dex" Jones, is determined to keep her safe and maybe get her into bed.

The question is, what's more dangerous: the killer or Dex trying to steal her heart?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Denise Malone
• Release date: May 20, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310134791

Denise Malone

Denise Malone lives in Texas with her husband, children, and a demented Doberman. Besides being an avid reader, she enjoys crocheting and watching college football. This is her debut novel.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

It was a Friday night, but it was no ordinary Friday night. I was turning in my invoice for the week, early, because Frankie and I were preparing for our annual May vacation the following week. I am a work-from-home medical transcriptionist, and Frankie, my best friend, owns a salon. The last few weeks have been crazy busy for Frankie because it’s prom season. The last of the proms for the local schools was scheduled for Saturday night, and then Frankie and I were headed for the coast of Texas for a few well-deserved days on the beach before wedding season started up in June. But before we started thinking about bikinis, sunscreen, and margaritas, she had to pamper the last of this year’s juniors and seniors for prom.

The first few weeks of May every year are always stressful for Frankie, doing manicures, pedicures, and amazing hairstyles for these girls every Friday and Saturday afternoon and into the early evening to make sure they all looked perfect for their proms. In addition to the busy Fridays and Saturdays, Frankie had to do payroll, keep the place clean and well-stocked, and keep her regular appointments. It’s been exhausting for her, so I’ve spent the last few Sundays helping Frankie get everything restocked and ready for her Tuesday morning appointments so she could take Mondays off to rest.

As I hit send on my email to turn in my invoice, my phone rang. It was 8:00, and Frankie was calling.

What’s up? I answered. Are you exhausted again?

Of course, she replied. I’ll be over in 10 to have a beer and some pizza. I’ll bring a movie, too. Cool?

Cool. See ya in a few, I said.

I’ve always loved it when Frankie and I just enjoyed a night in, drinking beer and eating pizza. We live in an apartment complex that caters to single professionals. Most of the people who live here are young because children aren’t allowed, but there are a few older singles that live here, too. She lives two doors down from me, and we met when I first moved in two years ago. At the time, I was coming off a breakup with Dr. Grant Bishop, a resident physician who’d decided that I should follow him to Africa where he was going to work for Doctors Without Borders. I wasn’t interested, so he broke our engagement. Still depressed, I decided to move to the singles apartment complex and try to get back into the dating scene.

I was shutting down the computer when I heard the doorbell ring downstairs. Frankie was a little early.

Door’s open, I yelled down the stairs as I headed to my bathroom. When I heard the front door open, I said, Brownies are on the counter if you want one. Down in a minute, gotta pee.

Um…thanks? a male voice came back up the stairs. That was definitely not Frankie. Who the hell did I just invite into my apartment?

I made a quick left and headed downstairs, curiosity overriding my bladder. I rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs to find an attractive, shirtless young man standing in my living room, brownie in hand.

Hi. Um, who are you? I asked, scanning the room for anything I could use as a weapon if needed.

Oh, sorry, I’m Dex. I just moved in across the street from you. I came by to see if I could borrow a screwdriver. Mine are still packed away somewhere and I can’t find them, he said by way of an explanation around a mouthful of brownie. You said the door was open and I could have a brownie if I wanted one.

I stood with my mouth open, not able to find any words to say because (a) I was ogling his shirtless chest and (b) there was a strange man in my apartment. I could understand why Dex was shirtless. If I were a man and built like him, I would never wear a shirt, ever. He’s tall, over six feet. His dark hair is cut very short. His smooth, dusky skin is taut over his muscled chest and six-pack abs, and he has the most gorgeous green eyes anyone could ever imagine. They’re a clear green, almost the color of peridot, and as mesmerizing as the Northern Lights. All I could do was stare at him even though I was starting to get a little pissed.

A knock on my now-open front door shocked me out of my stupor.

Who is it? I called, not taking my eyes from him. Frankie opened the door and came in, pizza in one hand, a six-pack and movie balanced on the top of the pizza box. She started to say something but then stopped abruptly. She was staring too. I’ve never seen Frankie speechless before. Suddenly, I was very pissed. Who the hell did he think he was coming in my house and eating my brownies?

Dex, is it? I inquired raising my eyebrows at him.

Well, Poindexter, but I go by Dex. My parents wanted me to have a memorable first name to go with the last name Jones.

"Well, Poindexter, please come in and make yourself at home," I replied, my voice dripping sarcasm. He shot me a look that could melt the plastic in my underwear. So being called Poindexter made him angry, but there was something else in that glare too. I wasn’t quite sure what it was, but the effect was stunning.

Hi. Frankie, my best friend said sticking out her free hand.

It’s nice to meet you, Frankie. Poindexter, but I prefer Dex, he answered, shaking her hand, his eyes only leaving mine for second. I could tell she was trying to relieve some of the tension in the room, but it was thick enough you could cut it with a knife. Undeterred, she tried again.

Hi honey, she said, putting her arm around my shoulder and kissing my cheek. Frankie and I are not a couple, but when one of us is being hit on by some jerk we can’t shake, we play the role of lesbian lovers to get the guy to back off. It works—most of the time, but occasionally we get some loser who asks if he can watch or join us. I broke the hold Dex’s gaze seemed to have on me, and I kissed Frankie on the cheek as well, putting my arm around her waist.

Let me see if I can find that screwdriver for you, so that you can be on your way, I huffed at him. The shocked look on his face was priceless. I turned and stomped up the stairs to where my small stash of tools is located, in the closet of my spare room/office. I found the tools easily, but I didn’t know if he needed a Phillips or a flat head screwdriver. Just to cover all the bases, I brought one of each downstairs. I heard Frankie and Dex making small talk, but it didn’t sound exactly friendly. I took a deep breath and collected my wits before I headed back into my living room. I was still angry with him for coming in and making himself at home.

Well Poindexter, here are two, a Phillips and a flathead. These should do. I expect them back tomorrow, I interrupted, handing him the screwdrivers.

I’m sorry. I know I should have waited until you came down to let me in, but you sounded so upbeat and sexy when I rang the bell, I just couldn’t help myself. Plus those brownies smelled really good. He took the screwdrivers and walked towards the door but stopped. Thanks for loaning me the screwdrivers. I didn’t get your name. He turned back assessing me from head to toe and back again. Then he shook his head as if he didn’t believe our little act.

My curly dark auburn hair was tied back in a ponytail. I was wearing cutoff shorts and a pink tank, barefoot, no makeup. Not the best impression a girl can make, especially when standing next to Frankie. She was stunning, of course, even after a long day at work. Her dark hair was perfectly coifed in a spunky bob, and her long legs looked perfect in her jeans and flats.

I’m Al. That’s all you need to know, I answered. And you can leave the tools on my porch in the morning. I’ll get them later.

With that, Dex took his leave. Frankie closed the door behind him with an audible sigh. Then she turned towards me with a look of disbelief on her face.

"That is one hot man, she exclaimed. Why were you so rude to him?"

"I was shocked. I thought you were the one knocking on the door. I came downstairs expecting you and found him, half dressed, in my kitchen, eating my brownies!" Frankie tried not to laugh but apparently couldn’t help herself. What had started out as a snort ended up as a fit of laughter. She laughed so hard and so long that my anger started to fade, and before I knew it, I was laughing too.

When we finally stopped laughing, the pizza was kind of cold, so we put it in the microwave to warm it. We each took a beer and I put the rest in the fridge. Frankie was pushing buttons on my Blu-Ray remote, and the movie came on just as the pizza came out of the microwave. We sat on my comfortable sofa and stuffed our faces with pizza and then brownies, drank beer, and watched this awful chick flick Frankie picked out. I hate chick flicks. I’ll take a good football or action movie any day of the week.

Around 10:30, Frankie was ready to head home to get ready for another busy Saturday at the salon, and I decided that I needed to get my daily workout in. I may officially be on vacation, but I can’t let my workout routine falter. Not until I get out of town and on the beach anyway.

CHAPTER 2

I went upstairs, changed into my blue bikini, grabbed my iPod and workout bag and headed to the indoor pool at our complex. The pool is situated in the large building behind Poindexter’s apartment. On the way, I put my ear buds in, pulled up a Justin Timberlake song, and danced my way over to the pool, my earlier pique of anger at Poindexter forgotten. When I stepped inside the building, the smell of chlorine assaulted my nose and stung my eyes. I made my way over to the iPod dock and plugged my iPod into it. I pulled up my swim play list and turned up the volume.

One thing I love about the pool is that on Friday evenings it’s usually deserted, and I can play whatever music I want while I swim. I went to the women’s locker room, and pulling my swim cap over my wild hair and tucking it in all the way around, I stepped into the shower and wet myself. I headed back out to the pool area dancing to a song by Katy Perry and dived into the 12 foot end. I started making laps, only half listening to the music. Three laps in, I found my stride and was enjoying the push and pull of the warm water over my skin, loosening my muscles, and making me feel stronger.

Suddenly, something touched my right foot. I was in the 10 foot area of the pool heading toward the shallow end, a long way to go to get to the wall. Startled, I turned on the juice, or at least attempted to. The next thing I knew, someone grabbed my foot and was trying to drown me! I vaguely heard laughing, a man laughing. I panicked and started kicking and turning in the water with everything I had. I felt my left foot come into contact with something hard, not hard like the concrete bottom or sides of the pool but more like someone’s head. The hand let go of my foot, and I made short work of the 50 or so feet to the shallow end. Once I could reach the bottom of the pool, I turned quickly to see if whomever I just kicked was following. I was brought up short by the site of him….Poindexter!

He wasn’t laughing anymore though. He was struggling to get to the side of the pool because he had blood running down his face from his eyebrow where I kicked him. Also, he was attempting to curse while choking and spitting water out of his mouth every time he surfaced. Apparently, he couldn’t see anything for the blood.

When I saw who it was, I was tempted to leave him there to drown. However, even though I was angry with him again and a little nauseated from the sight of the blood, I couldn’t just leave him there to die on his first week in a new complex. I swam back towards him and grabbed his arm, pulling him to the side of the pool. It was only a few feet away, but he fought me most of the way. Man, he was as strong as he looked! I was getting more exercise out of my nightly swim than I’d bargained for.

After struggling for a few minutes to get him to the side, I yelled at him that I was trying to help. He calmed down and let me drag him to the side of the pool where he immediately climbed out. He was spluttering bloody water all over the side of the pool and really started cursing.

The reason I went into the business end of the medical field is because I can’t stand the site of blood. It makes me feel queasy. I made to swim back to the shallow end of the pool and away from the blood, when Poindexter apparently cleared enough blood from his face to reach down and grab my arm with one hand and the pool ladder with the other to anchor himself.

What are you doing? Let go of me, I yelled. He did promptly. I thought maybe he was afraid of what I might do to him when I could see him and take aim. He turned, rushed over to the pool chairs, and grabbed a towel to hold to his face to try to stop the bleeding. I swam to the shallow end, climbed out, grabbed my towel and iPod off the dock, and ran out of the building, not bothering to look back. I got half way to my apartment before I realized that I’d left my keys in my bag in the women’s locker room. I was locked out of my apartment! Still soaked and shaking from the adrenaline rush—and a little nauseated too—I stopped dead and tried to figure out a way to get back inside my apartment without having to go back to the pool building. I could hear Poindexter’s muttered curses getting louder from behind me. I must have left the pool house before he did. I decided that since he wasn’t in the building maybe it would be safe for me to go back and get my things. However, I didn’t want to be in his way, so I made a sharp right and crouched down in the shadows and bushes of the apartment next to his before he could see me. He stumbled toward his house, towel still held to his head, and still muttering curses.

I waited until he was inside for a good five minutes before I stepped out of the shadows and made my way back to the pool. I slipped quietly inside the building, avoided looking at what was left of the blood on the floor, and collected my bag from the locker room. I’d begun to calm down and the shaking had stopped. I took a deep breath and attempted to look out the foggy, floor-to-ceiling windows of the pool house. Even though I couldn’t really see that well, the coast seemed clear. I decided to take a circuitous route around Poindexter’s place just in case. I made a left and, keeping to the shadows, made my way towards my apartment.

When I rounded the apartment to the right of his, I heard him speak again. Are you trying to avoid me now and sneak back home? He sounded a little angry. I spun on him and found him standing on his front porch. He had put on some jeans, no shirt though, and had stopped the bleeding with a couple of butterfly bandages over his left eyebrow. His left eye was swollen, and a nice shiner was starting to develop. He was eyeing me again, sizing me up maybe?

No, I just realized I left my things in the pool house and went back to get them. I like to take a different route to and from the pool from time to time. Is that okay with you? I barked back. He stepped off the porch towards me, and I took a step back and angled my body into a defensive position. He looked a little startled but stopped advancing.

Hey, I’m sorry. I thought you heard me come into the pool house. I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I just thought we could have some fun in the pool, you know, to make up for the bad first impression I left you with.

"Well, maybe you should make sure the person you are trying to have fun with knows you’re there and wants to have fun before you go grabbing them. I was still pissed, and he could tell it. He put both hands up, palms out and said, Sorry." Then he turned and stalked back into his apartment, muttering under his breath.

I watched until he was inside and the door was closed before I made my way back to my apartment. I went inside and double checked that all of my doors and windows were locked and secured before I showered and flopped on the bed. I drifted to sleep easily. However, my dreams were haunted by green eyes everywhere my unconscious took me. I couldn’t get away from them. They were in my living room, in the pool house, and even staring across the street at me. I woke with a start at 4:00, slipped off the wet towel I’d fallen asleep in, and crawled under the covers completely naked. I told myself that I was safe, in my own apartment, with all of the windows and doors locked, and that Poindexter was just a sophomoric neighbor I would learn to ignore. Most of the rest of the night, I slept fairly peacefully.

CHAPTER 3

I woke a little early for a Saturday, 6:30. I looked at the alarm on my side table and groaned. I felt too awake to go back to sleep even though I hadn’t slept well. I tried to sleep longer, but at 7:15, I decided it was useless and rolled out of bed. In the bathroom, I noticed I had circles under my eyes. I definitely looked like I needed more sleep. I did the best I could with some concealer and headed to my closet to dress for the day. I decided on my favorite light pink, knee-length sundress with matching silk panties and bra and white strappy sandals. I still needed a few things for our trip, but the mall wasn’t open this early. Oh well, I guess I could find something to do until it opened and I could get some retail therapy in. I decided that since I had a full day of shopping head of me, I needed some breakfast. I also needed to take my recycling to the recycling center at the front of the apartment complex.

Looking in the fridge, it was clear that I would have to eat breakfast out. I usually do my grocery shopping on Saturday mornings. I was out of just about everything, but I was leaving for vacation. No need to leave food to rot in the fridge while I was gone. I gathered up my recycling and put it all by the front door. Next I opened the garage door, and pulled my car out of the garage and into the driveway.

I love my car. Her name is Ruthie. She’s a 1957 convertible Corvette. She’s cherry red with white accents and white wall tires. She used to belong to my Aunt Rose, who’d named her, and the name stuck.

I put the top down so that I could get the recyclables into the car easier, put the garage door down, and went back into the house. Not, however, before sneaking a peek across the street. Poindexter was either not home or had put his truck in the garage. I’d noticed his truck in his driveway last night. Apparently we have similar tastes in cars. He drives a 1955 Chevy truck.

Satisfied that he was not going to bother me again this morning, I collected my purse and keys, opened the front door, and bent to pick up the box of recycling. I used my elbow to push the handle on the screen door and my rear end to open it, and almost dropped the box. I struggled for a few seconds trying to keep the screen door open, one foot in the living room and one on the porch. I managed to get the box situated between my arm and hip so it wouldn’t fall again. I grabbed the doorknob of the wooden door to close it. Just as I turned, a gust of wind came and blew my dress up over my face. I dropped the box to push my dress down and came face to face with none other than Poindexter. He was holding an arrangement of daisies with my screwdrivers sticking out of it—a huge grin on his face! The grin looked a little comical with the black eye and butterfly bandages on his eyebrow.

Morning! Let me help you with that, he said, looking a little smug.

No, I’ll get it, I argued, but it was too late. He’d already put the pretty little flower arrangement on the garden table on my porch and was chasing down empty aluminum cans and cardboard that the wind was blowing away. He came trotting back and put it all in the box with a triumphant smile.

I could have gotten it myself, but thanks, I said.

Not without the wind blowing your dress up and showing those pretty little panties to anyone who happened to be looking, he said, raising and lowering his eyebrows and stepping close enough that I could feel his breath on my face. I felt my breath hitch in my throat and my pulse increase.

Ugh. Really? Can you be any more juvenile? I said in disgust.

Just letting you know that I enjoyed the view I got for a second, he replied. I was about to respond when we heard a sound that had us both turning our heads. It was the neighbor to my left, between me and Frankie. She was opening her garage door and honking at us. Oh, I hate her, hate her, hate her. Did I mention that I hate her? Her name is Candi, and she’s a kindergarten teacher. I know one should never hate a kindergarten teacher, but I do. She’s tall, bleach blonde, and has DD breast implants that she always shows as much of as she can get away with. She’s also the biggest flirt in the entire complex. Obviously, she hadn’t met Poindexter yet, and the look on her face said she wasn’t happy about it. She pulled into her drive, hopped out of her Range Rover, and almost ran to my porch.

Hi, I’m Candi, she said, extending a hand and pushing her boobs as far out as she could without toppling over. He didn’t take her hand. Maybe he thought it was rude of her to come onto my porch to introduce herself and not even acknowledge my presence.

Dex, he said. He turned and stepped off the porch to put my recycling box in the passenger side of my car.

Are you new to the complex? she asked taking a step towards my car and turning her back towards me. Perfect, now not only was she ignoring me but had turned her back on me too.

Yeah, just moved in. Al was having some trouble with her recycling this morning. I was helping her out since she helped me out last night, he said. Candi started giggling.

"And just how did she help you out last night? she snorted. You know she’s a lesbian right? Would probably give you lesbo cooties or something. Poindexter ignored her, picked up the flower arrangement, and said, Can we go inside and find a place for these?"

Gladly, I said smiling. I stepped back inside my apartment. He sidestepped Candi, followed me in, and firmly shut the door in Candi’s face.

We could see Candi stomping and huffing across my porch through the curtains. I couldn’t help but laugh. Poindexter just stood there looking around my apartment. After a minute or so of me laughing hysterically, he started to laugh too even though the look on his face said he had no idea why we were laughing. About five minutes later, he was holding his side with one hand, as if he was laughing so hard it hurt. In the other hand were the flowers. It was a very cute arrangement, white daisies in a little pink bucket with a pink bow.

What was that all about? he finally huffed out between chuckles.

"We