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Muriel had just finished successfully interviewing Mr Fell and Mr Crowley, disguised as a police officer and had found that they would need to remain on mission for a few more days. It was not a hardship, Earth was so exciting! All the colour and sound was fascinating, so different from Heaven.
They decided it would be beneficial to conduct further interviews whilst they waited for the miracle that would make Nina and Maggie fall in love. Mr Crowley had said that they could ask him any questions about love but from their reading, it seemed that interviews from several neighbours would yield sufficient intel.
They had found a comprehensive catalogue of contact information called the Yellow Pages in the Heavenly archives, submitted by Mr Fell before his enforced retirement. Muriel decided to start with Brown’s World of Carpets and walked to the large warehouse building that was rather imposing. There were many loud posters in garish colours and brash fonts with confusing messages. ‘WHEN IT’S GONE, IT’S GONE: 10% OFF SHAG PILE!’, ‘WE CAN HELP MATCH YOUR CARPETS TO ANY DRAPES, ASK MR BROWN!’, ‘NO OBLIGATION QUOTES FOR LAYING SERVICES!’. Rolls of material stretched the length of the warehouse, with small tiles of those materials plastering a wall that Muriel was just inspecting when a reedy man approached them quietly from behind.
“Hello, Officer! Might I be of some assistance?” Muriel, already a skittish being after such a solitary existence, was startled at the loud voice. The corporation they inhabited seemed to react quite intensely to unexpected stimuli, its heart sped up, the lungs panted, and the flesh seemed to prickle like it did when it was cold.
Muriel shook off the surprise and their piqued interest over the corporeal reaction, they had a job to do. It would not go down well to return to Michael and Uriel without anything to report! This was their chance to prove they were capable of more than their Scrivener duties. Mr Brown watched expectantly, leaning a bit too close for their comfort.
“Oh, yes! ‘Ello, ‘ello, ‘ello, Mr Brown!” They greeted with a bright smile and a small bow at the legs. “As a human police officer, I have the right to question you about your neighbours and their love life. This is a very important investigation that we require your cooperation with.” They intoned seriously.
Mr Brown’s very wide eyes seemed to narrow angrily.
“Is this about Mr Fell and his redhead beau?” He spat the word out like it tasted rotten, mouth screwed up into a moue of displeasure. Muriel was surprised by how humorous the human man looked with his moustache rumpled so. “Yes, well I do hope this is concerning my numerous complaints regarding that monstrosity of a car and its driver. I have sent photos to the Council of him parking illegally and they claim to have not received one! I think he has connections. I cannot for the life of me understand what Mr Fell sees in that rogue. Mr Fell is an upstanding member of Whickber Street, it’s just a shame about who he chooses to associate with. You should have seen them cosying up in the pub yesterday.” Mr Brown shook his head, clearly very irritated by the memory.
Redhead? Did Mr Brown mean Mr Crowley? He did possess a very intimidating vehicle!
“Oh.” They blinked, unsure how to navigate back to their initial line of questioning. “Oh, no, I meant Nina and Maggie”
Mr Brown’s eyebrows lowered into a frown. “I am not one for keeping up with street romances, gossip is beneath me, officer.”
“That's a shame, I was hoping you would have an interest in matters of love if you keep up with Mr Fell.” Muriel smiled sadly. It was disappointing, they had high hopes as he was named as Chair of the Whickber Street Shop Keepers Association, and they thought this sort of thing would be within his remit.
“Well thank you for your time, Mr Brown!”
“Of course, officer! Anything for King and country!” He saluted, poorly. Muriel idly imagined the Quartermaster witnessing the gesture, Mr Brown would have been severely reprimanded for bad form. “Oh, if you do see Maggie, please remind her the Association membership fees are due. She is always late, needs a rocket up her bum that girl!” He said, laughing.
Muriel was horrified, what a brutal comment from an otherwise innocuous man. “Wouldn’t that hurt? A rocket up her backside!” That would destroy their corporation and it was much more reinforced than a standard human body!
“It’s a turn of phrase!” Mr Brown exclaimed, looking perplexed by Muriel’s reaction.
“Oh, of course!” Muriel shook their head, feigning understanding of the interaction but was confused by the whole conversation. They hurriedly left the shop, making a note to request an assignment for a Guardian Angel to be assigned to Maggie.
Having failed to find out anything of consequence, they made their to Marguerite’s, which was a very romantic restaurant that was frequented by many humans who loved eachother. Perhaps the purveyor had sold food to Maggie and Nina on an evening of courting!
Justine seemed harried and had no interest in surveys she said after opening the door enough to speak, but not be seen. Muriel was shooed away even after explaining that they were a police officer with the right to question the neighbourhood.
“I need to set up for the evening and am down on wait staff, so unless you would like to don an apron and wait tables, please be on your way.”
Similarly, when they visited Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death, Nina refused to answer their questions and sent them away, quite haughtily! It was quite confounding to be treated in such a manner whilst appearing as a police officer, they were supposed to be a respected profession. How were they supposed to verify the miracle if none of the potential witnesses were cooperative?
Rather than give up and return to their lonely duties at headquarters, they decided to head to The Small Back Room and talk to Maggie.
“I’m sorry officer, why are you asking me this?”
“You see, we at Scotland Yard are taking a census for humans in love in this settlement. Are you in love?” They tapped their pencil against their notepad for emphasis. The cover story seemed plausible and they were fairly proud of thinking of it so quickly.
“Did Mrs Sandwich put you up to this?”
“I- uh- no! My superiors did.” Muriel stammered. They didn’t know of a Mrs Sandwich. Unless the archangels were taking on aliases like Muriel!
“Honestly, I only told Mr Fell and her, and Mr Fell is such a sweet, honest gent. She’s just bloody mad because I know who her mystery glasses guy is and won’t tell her.” Maggie paced behind her vehicle counter, ranting at the ceiling.
Glasses guy? Another enigma to unravel. It seemed like there were more questions than answers with each door they knocked on. Mr Crowley did say that they could ask him anything about love, it would probably be prudent to utilise his intelligence when reporting back to Michael and Uriel. Then that would buy some time for them to understand humans a little better before the miracle established itself.