All I knew was that Dexter had died in the house under mysterious circumstances, mostly because he had been only in his forties. There wasn’t much mystery surrounding a suicide, though.
Lightening flashed outside the window, a rare occurrence, and it drew my attention away from musings about Charlie’s story and to the window again. Thunder followed shortly after, and I sat at the desk to eat my dinner and watch the storm. 2
I was pleased when I awoke the next morning to the clouds breaking up and the sun streaking through. I hadn’t looked forward to the idea of looking at Dexter Manor in the pouring rain.
I showered, dressed, packed my stuff, and checked out of the hotel. I spotted a small bakery off the Embarcadero serving coffee and cinnamon rolls, so I headed there for a quick breakfast. I was to meet the realtor at ten at Dexter Manor.