LOWEN’S PHARMACY, at the corner of Bay Ridge Avenue and Third Avenue in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, since 1953, was open for business last week, with a Valentine’s Day display in the window next to an old newspaper article, blown up to poster size, hailing the store as a “beacon of service.” With the text was a picture of John Rossi, the store’s gray-haired owner, wearing glasses and a serious look, and filling a prescription.

News coverage has been less kind in recent months, ever since police raids in May and September in which the authorities said they had seized millions of dollars’ worth of steroids and human growth hormone. On Monday, as a wide-ranging investigation continued, Mr. Rossi was found dead in an upstairs office, apparently a suicide. On Wednesday, a day after the television news cameras had left, all of Bay Ridge seemed to pause in front of the store to gawk or pay respects.

On the sidewalk near Mr. Rossi’s picture a small shrine had been erected, with vases of flowers, a few candles and a crucifix made of palms. Newspapers had reported that Mr. Rossi, 56, left a note, asking his wife’s forgiveness. On Wednesday, a photocopied note addressed to Mr. Rossi and his family and taped to a wall near the flowers delivered the same message. “Please forgive for not finding the right words,” it read. “You were a big instrument to help me forge forward in life.”

A little after noon, a man in his 50s who was carrying two grocery bags stopped by the flowers and looked up, then crossed himself and pointed to the sky before continuing on his way.

People recalled Mr. Rossi’s days at the store from the early 1970s, when he was fresh out of pharmacy school, to the time, years later, when he finally bought the business from its original owner. They described him as friendly and inquisitive, and always patient in answering questions about dosage or side effects. He was not exactly outgoing, but he was someone regular customers were used to seeing and knew they could trust.

Walter Toro, a neighbor of the store who stopped to read the notes, remembered how widely respected Mr. Rossi was, and the shock that came with the first news about steroids. “I saw it on TV and said, ‘Is that the same drugstore?’ ” he said.

The reasons for Mr. Rossi’s death remain partly a mystery, but Mr. Toro could speculate: “He was embarrassed, he was afraid to go to jail, or he was probably afraid of being found guilty.”

According to people in the neighborhood, however, the investigation and the ensuing publicity had not seemed to hurt business. Lorraine Daly, who grew up nearby and got to know Mr. Rossi when her brother had a long illness, remained a regular customer. She saw Mr. Rossi the day before his death, when she was picking up a prescription, Ms. Daly said. But she was in a hurry, so she just said hello and rushed out.

The medical examiner’s office ruled that Mr. Rossi shot himself, once in the chest and once in the head, but Ms. Daly was not alone in wondering whether someone else, perhaps because of the drug investigation, wanted him out of the way.

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Besides, there was the news that Mr. Rossi’s daughter had just given birth to a son. “She’s going to remember the baby’s birthday and the father’s death at the same time,” Ms. Daly said. “No. He wasn’t that kind of a person.”

Last week, most longtime customers preferred not to dwell on the details. “He was always a gentleman,” said Anita Banach, a regular customer who lives in Bay Ridge Towers, a few blocks north of the store.

“Whether something is true or not, if you’re loyal, you still feel for that person no matter what happened,” she said. “You just don’t walk away, you know?”

In August, a freakish tornado that tore through Bay Ridge had damaged the Lowen’s sign, and only about a week or two ago Ms. Banach saw Mr. Rossi outside his pharmacy, supervising the installation of a new one.