Harold frowned and hurried after her. "What?" He closed the door carefully, following her down the spiral staircase that served as a fire exit for both gallery and shop.
Julie waited for him at the bottom, looking anachronistic against a new sculpture by Francis Slinn entitled 'Nostalgia in Brass and Chocolate.' "You heard me." She marched off toward Felicia's office and the coffee machine housed there.
Harold glanced around the gallery looking for customers and visitors. Again he hurried to catch up. "Yes, I heard what you said. What I don't know is quite what you mean. There haven't been any zombies in Laverstone since that tedious affair with Tom Blesset's parents."
"Well there are now." Julie got to Felicia's office and slumped into her sister's desk chair.
"What?" Felicia looked up from the leather sofa she kept for tête-à-têtes with petulant artists and put her book on the coffee table. Harold glanced at the title. 'The Viking Werewolf: A Legacy.' "What are there now?"
"Zombies." Julie leaned across and poured herself a coffee. "I met two of them in Bernard's while I was waiting for Jasfoup who, I may add, seems to have gone missing. Are the two connected? I think so. Where's Jasfoup when there are zombie about? Lopping off heads or I don't know him at all. I said to his only last week: 'Why do you keep that sword in your pocket all the time?' and he said to me 'Julie, love, angelic flame with cut through anything. Even your toenails.' I tell you now, I'd have hit him if he hadn't been a demon and liable to take it personally."
"Whoa!" Harold felt like his head was spinning. "Start again from the beginning, only at a speed men can understand."
Julie took a deep breath, counted the three and let it out again slowly. "Zombies," she said, looking at Harold. "Dead people animated by spirits?"
"Yes, I know what zombies are, thank you." Harold shared a Gah!-What-is-she-like? eyebrow raise with Felicia. "What were they doing in Bernard's bar?"
"Trying to get a drink of course."