The Silence (Columbia River #2)(46)

He liked Home Depot.

A dark-haired woman in an orange apron cheerily greeted him from behind the tall counter. “What can I do for you this morning?” She quickly scanned him from head to toe; he wasn’t their usual 6:00 a.m. shopper.

“I’m looking for Gloria Briggs.”

She grinned. “You found her.”

Mason’s gaze dropped to the handwritten name on her worn apron. In large block letters it read RIA. “Ria,” he corrected. “Sorry.”

“Not a problem. What do you need?”

Mason showed her his ID. “I’d like to ask you about Reuben Braswell. Is there somewhere quieter we can talk?” The store was actually very quiet, but he felt exposed at the central desk.

Her face fell as she heard Reuben’s name. “Let me get someone to cover the desk.” Mason nodded and stepped away, eyeing the coolers. They were twice the size of the three he already had.

I don’t need another.

But damn, the price is good.

Ria joined him. “Let’s head down this way,” she said, gesturing to an aisle. He followed, and they stopped under the light fixtures for sale near the back of the store. It was deserted. “No one comes in looking for chandeliers this time of day,” she stated. She met his gaze. “I heard about Reuben. Rumors are flying. What happened?”

“I can’t say much,” Mason said. “The investigation is ongoing.” Always a handy phrase that most people respected. “I’d like to know what kind of employee he was.”

“Excellent,” she immediately said, crossing her arms. “He’s worked graveyard for several years and seems to enjoy it. He’d rather work with the merchandise than the customers, so it seemed a good fit for him.”

“What do his coworkers think of him? He get along with everyone?”

Something flashed in her brown eyes. “He gets his work done and does his part. Not a slacker.”

Not what I asked.

“Who’s he hang around with?”

Ria twisted her mouth as she thought. “I see him talking with Joe Cooper a lot.”

“He around?”

She checked her watch. “Yes. He should still be here.”

“Ria.” Mason paused, searching for a tactful way to ask his question. “Did Reuben have any arguments with his coworkers? Or maybe an issue with a customer? Wait . . . you said his job didn’t require him to interact with customers.”

“He works until seven a.m.,” she said. “He dealt with customers during that last hour of his shift.”

“Anyone get angry with him?”

She cocked her head to one side. “Are you asking if he got someone mad enough to kill him?”

“I am,” Mason said reluctantly.

“You don’t have a suspect in his murder?”

“We have a couple of good leads, but I’m looking into every aspect of his life.”

The woman searched his eyes, disappointment on her face. “I’ve never had a customer complain or heard about someone having an issue with Reuben. The guys who work with him will tell you he keeps to himself.” She lifted one shoulder. “That’s not a bad thing.”

“Can you hunt down Joe Cooper for me?”

“Stay here.” She passed under the lights and fans, headed to the back of the store.

Mason spent the next few minutes absently studying light fixtures as he waited, wondering if Ria didn’t want to say anything bad about a dead employee. Many thought it was respectful of the dead, but it didn’t help solve a murder. People needed to be frank.

He remembered how Ava kept grumbling about the light fixture in the dining room, and a shiny rectangular fixture with hundreds of tiny hanging glass balls caught his attention.

No.

A man appeared from the direction in which Ria had vanished. Mason judged him to be in his late twenties. Wide shoulders. Bearded. Huge hands. “You Detective Callahan?” he asked in a deep timbre.

“I am.” Mason shook his hand. “Sorry about Reuben. I understand you were friends.”

Joe scratched his beard. “Yeah. He was a good one. Pulled his weight, unlike some of the guys.”

“You hang out after work?”

Amusement sparked in Joe’s eyes. “After work is breakfast time. Yeah, we’d go to that pancake place over off Barbur Boulevard.”

“Good pancakes.”

“The best.”

“What kind of guy was Reuben?” Mason asked.

Joe lifted his chin, his gaze suddenly shuttered. “You know who killed him?”

Mason used his favorite line again. “The investigation is ongoing.”

“Cop speak for ‘We’re not telling you shit.’”

“Pretty much,” Mason answered evenly. “I assume you understand why. This is a murder investigation.”

The man looked away and ran a hand through his hair. “Reuben had ideas . . .”

“I know he wasn’t fond of law enforcement and government.”

Joe’s gaze flew back to Mason’s in surprise. “Yeah. He could get pretty fired up about it. I’d listen to him when he ranted, but it mostly went in one ear and out the other. I don’t see the point in complaining about something like that. It’s not going to change it.”