Harold smiled tersely. “I'm sure we could find a holiday cottage somewhere. I'll set Devious on the task when we get home.” He resented anything that took him away from his beloved shop and with Julie no longer working – or living, come to that – he still had to find an under-manager that could cope with all the supernatural activity. Actually... He bit his lip, considering a suitable applicant... Amanda might be a good match. As a mummy, she could hardly complain about the working conditions and if he got his mum to put a glamour on her nobody would ever know she was as dry as an old prune. He wouldn't have to pay her much, either, if at all.
“What are you thinking about, Harold? It's something to do with making money because you've got that smile on.”
“Oh, nothing important.” He could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. “You've given me an idea about the shop, though. Let me think about it some more and flesh in the details before I talk about it.”
“If you say so.” She didn't look convinced.
He looked past her up the stair well but couldn't see Dill. “Drat. Where did the deader go?”
“He opened a door to the fifth floor. I sent Devious to keep an eye on him.” Jasfoup pointed upward. “It's a shame we haven't got Julie any more. She could have taken her false eye out and meant it literally.”