“Nick locked up.” Jason crossed and uncrossed his arms, smile looking forced now.
“And what about this morning? Did you come straight from home?”
“I went to Best Of Coffee first.” After a short pause he added, “I do every morning.”
“Someone can verify that?”
“Sure,” Jason said.
“Would you say Robbie was a well-liked guy?”
“He got along with everyone. He organized events. We all got along.”
“Except for the scrap last night?” Gibson squinted his eyes and peered into Jason’s flat grey eyes.
“Things happen,” Jason said, breathing in deeply.
“It wasn’t a homophobic thing then?” Gibson shot back. He liked to infuse some static into his interviews.
“No. What would give you that idea?” Jason retorted defensively.
“The condom.”
That stopped Jason in his tracks. After a few minutes of stillness, he lifted his shoulders but made no comment. Gibson let that go.
“Some of you guys bike together. What about baseball?”
“I don’t play. Don’t know about anybody else.” Jason uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. “Never saw that bat before. If that’s what you’re thinking.”
“That’s all for now. Thanks Jason.”
“For now?”
“We’ll have further questions as the investigation continues.”
“Really? I don’t see how anyone of us could be involved.” He stood up and placed his palms flat on the desk.
“We’re going to look around. In both buildings. Okay with you?” Gibson brushed lint from his sleeve.
“Sure.”
“Could you show me which locker is Robbie’s?”
Jason headed to the lunchroom. Along one wall was a long row of lockers—some with banners and some with names. He tapped on a blue cabinet in the middle with a picture of a muscle car taped to the front and no lock. Gibson reached for the handle. A light jiggle upwards released the door, and it swung open effortlessly. Anybody could have a peek. Or take something. Even put something there. He gazed up and down the row. Only a few didn’t have locks.
“I’ll be at my desk if you need anything.”
Gibson nodded a thanks. He was already examining the contents and recording them in his notebook. The foreman hung around for a few moments, hovering close by. Then he turned and went back to his office, closing the door behind him.
Gibson rooted through the locker, methodically inspecting each item. There was a coat and a pair of lined pants hanging on a large hook. On the top storage rack, there were several automobile magazines, a newspaper from a few days ago and some application forms from local colleges. There was a coffee mug that had known better times with a faded picture of a dog on the front. At the foot of the locker were steel-toed boots and a few stinky socks. Gibson found nothing of significance and placed his pad back in his pocket. He took a perfunctory glance around the room. There was the usual beat-up table and chairs expected in a workplace setting. On the countertop stood a stained coffee maker, a kettle and a microwave.
He scrutinized a drawer that was loaded with a haphazard selection of flatware, an opener and several dull knives. The overhead cupboard had spotted glasses, cracked mugs and assorted plates. Two doors were closed on the far wall. He opened the first one to discover it was a closet with brooms, buckets and cleaning fluids. The other led to a grimy bathroom. The last person hadn’t flushed the toilet, giving off an acrid stench. Paper towels were scattered on the mud-covered floor. The sink was filthy. He guessed they didn’t use the provisions in the supply closet. All-in-all he found nothing he didn’t expect until he glanced in the garbage bin. Downstairs he encountered his partner rifling through the sideboards. She had walked around the area examining every nook and cranny. Lots of machinery, work gear and parkas filled the room.
“Anything out of the ordinary?” Gibson asked.
“No. You?”
He held up an empty box.
“Just this,” he said, the corners of his mouth upturned into a knowing sneer, his eyes sparkled.
“Wow.” Scottie took the evidence bag, spinning it over several times to get a better look and handed it back. “Anything else?”
“Nothing.”
“No porn, eh?” Scottie joked.
“Was that a question or a remark?” Gibson asked stiffly, not one to tolerate any mockery.
Scottie was a little flustered, “Didn’t mean to suggest it like that. Maybe just an inkling about Robbie.” Scottie hesitated. “You know his orientation.”
“Yeah. I suppose you’re right,” Gibson admitted. He patted Scottie’s shoulder lightly. “But nothing there.”
“Should we check the other building?”
“Definitely.”
They crossed the courtyard. Gibson turned at the door and saw Jason move away from the second-floor window. The workshop was an immense space with long workbenches on opposite sides. Tools and parts littered the countertops. Bulky jackets and pants were hung chaotically on hooks along the back wall. Tony’s office was tucked in the far corner. A cursory look into the washroom next to it revealed another dirty scene. Gibson puckered his mouth in disgust.
“Time for a coffee.”
“Good idea.”
As they moved down the street, a vehicle crept into the maintenance yard. Andrew sat in his vehicle for a moment. The stillness was creepy—a murder had happened there this morning. What the hell was he doing here? He headed home, forgetting about his appointment at three.
The foreman remained behind the blinds squinting at the visitor. What does he want? The Mustang pulled out. Jason went back to his desk.
Chapter 11
On the northeast side of the campus was a trendy café called the Ottiva. AJ had given Scottie a heads up on its popularity with the university crowd. The coffee was exceptional and the home-cooked food comforting. But its popularity meant it was jam-packed all day. Scottie pulled into a spot close to the restaurant, and they strode quickly down the sidewalk to avoid getting drowned by the rain now coming down in buckets. As soon as she swung the door open, they could smell the sweet aroma of freshly baked pastry and savoury spices. They found an unoccupied space by the entrance and sat down on the wooden chairs. The table wobbled when Gibson placed his elbow on top. Each time another customer arrived or left, they got a blast of bracing sea air. Despite the commotion, the fresh steaming cups of coffee made it all worthwhile. It was a pleasant atmosphere, unpretentious and friendly. They remained silent, each mulling over the day’s developments. After several minutes of congenial contemplation Scottie spoke up.
“So, what do you think?”
“I know every workplace has its token bully, but this place is loaded with them,” Gibson said. Then he put his journal on the table and opened it to the first page. He thumbed through his observations and looked up at her. “Tim is the most obvious bully and Nick is his sidekick.” He paused and added, “Nick’s hiding something.”
> “What about David?”
“He’s a loner. I’m certain he knows more about what’s going on here.” Gibson stopped to consider. “Maybe he’s afraid to say something.”
“Afraid of what?” Scottie gave him an incredulous eye.
“I don’t know. Getting beaten up. Or worse.”
“By whom. Tim?”
“Probably. Maybe.” He shrugged. He tried not to dislike the individuals he met while working a murder crime. It clouded his impartiality. But he had Tim in his sights. He hated bullies more than anything. They pressured weaker people to do their bidding. It was an outrage that boiled his blood.
“Jason is a cocky guy,” Scottie said.
“Isn’t he? But he also wants to be everybody’s friend. He rides with the crew at the bike park.”
“Oh, yeah. And the other boss too. What a piece of work. He has a malicious streak.”
Gibson nodded in compliance. “Is this a hate crime?”
“I’m not sure. The condom was planted so…” She lost her thought.
“Someone wanted us to know that Robbie was gay.” Gibson picked up the trail.
“Maybe.”
“We can’t ignore the bully factor. And if Robbie was gay…”
Gibson knew Scottie had a conflicting view from him and wasn’t ready to call this a hate crime. He could tell by how she squirmed in her chair. He couldn’t figure out why she hesitated because she had felt the effects of that kind of thinking herself—people judging her because she was a lesbian.
“We still have to visit Robbie’s wife and break the news,” Gibson said. “I’ve asked the others to leave that to us.”
“Okay.” A slight wavering of her voice was evident.
That was another thing Gibson knew about Scottie. She hated this part of the job. It was always awkward and heartbreaking especially when kids were involved. It affected him too. Although Scottie didn’t have kids of her own, she was devoted to her nieces. If something happened to her sister there would be nothing left but a void, a swirling blackness. He prayed that would never happen. The coffee had renewed their energy. They were as prepared as they could be to break the news to Ellen. Outside the sun gleamed for brief moments, clouds quickly racing in to fill the blue patches.