Free Mausoleum by Justin Scott Page B

context.”
    â€œDid you shoot my cousin Sherman?”
    â€œShot, digitized, edited, and entered in the New Haven Shorts Festival.”
    â€œThat was fast.”
    â€œPopped some speed. Stayed up all night. Poor Scooter thought I was going to enter him, but documentary judges go for the gnarly types…I heard you’re investigating Brian Grose.”
    â€œYou did? Where?”
    â€œAround.”
    Ten trustees of the Cemetery Association. One had to be a blabber mouth. “Well, I’m not exactly investigating Brian.”
    â€œBeing dead and all.”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œBut you are investigating who killed him?”
    â€œWhy do you ask, Lorraine?”
    â€œI worked for him.”
    â€œReally? Doing what?”
    â€œI was his videographer.”
    â€œVideo-graphing what?”
    â€œHis death video.”
    â€œI beg your pardon.”
    She had a fun grin. “Don’t you know what a death video is?”
    â€œYou’ve never struck me as the type of woman to make a snuff flick.”
    â€œNot a snuff flick ! It’s like a bio. Like you have at your retirement party? Except they show it at your funeral.”
    â€œWhy was he planning his funeral?”
    â€œThat was my first question. Why did he want a death film at age forty-whatever? He said it went with the mausoleum. It was like, now I have my mausoleum, I might as well get the rest of the stuff out of the way and done so it’s ready when I pop off.”
    â€œWas he sick?”
    â€œHe wasn’t psycho. He was just trying to get the job done.”
    â€œI meant was he ill?”
    â€œI don’t think so. He looked fine.”
    I took a sip of wine and watched her face, wondering how close she had been with him. I couldn’t say she was grieving. And Connie had said that the rumors about her and Brian were “claptrap.”
    â€œCan I ask you something?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œDo you think Brian had a feeling he was in danger?”
    â€œLike a premonition?”
    â€œOr actual knowledge that someone was after him. Wanted to kill him?”
    Lorraine shrugged bonily, all shoulder blades and clavicle. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. But I don’t know. I mean he never said anything to me.”
    â€œWould he have?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œWere you close?”
    She shrugged again. “I guess when you’re making a movie about somebody’s life maybe they tell you stuff they don’t tell other people.”
    â€œDid he tell you anything?”
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œLike what he wouldn’t tell other people.”
    She hesitated. “Not really.”
    â€œHow did he happen to hire you? Saw your wedding ad in the Clarion and figured, what the heck, weddings, funerals, same thing?”
    â€œNo. I got the job from the mausoleum company. The film was part of the package—tomb, film, funeral services, etc.”
    â€œThe mausoleum builders sell a package? Including embalming?”
    â€œOne stop shopping. They’ll even hire mourners. Anyway, the mausoleum company Googled for a videographer in the area and Google sent them to my website. They tried to knock my price down, but I checked out their website, saw that Brian probably paid them six-hundred thousand dollars so they could afford my measly ten.”
    â€œDid you finish it?”
    â€œI’m still editing the rough cut. The company says they’ll put the DVD in the mausoleum.”
    â€œDid Brian see any of it?”
    â€œAre you kidding? He was all over me like a cheap suit. He would have vetted every frame if I let him.”
    â€œCould you show it to me, sometime?”
    â€œSure. Why not?”
    â€œWhen would it be convenient?”
    She swigged her glass empty. “Now?”
    We walked. Another thing we had in common was I lived in what had been my parents’ house and Lorraine had moved into hers’