Parables of Clippety (7) - Sniffer Dogs

 

‘Sorry, all done. Oh look at my hair, it’s gone nuts. It always does this when I want to look nice. I’m going to dampen it down a bit, then dry it off. Is there a hairdryer in here?’

 

‘Yes, it’s just sitting on the wall there.’

 

‘Oh yes.’ Clare poured some water from a bottle into the palm of her hand and stroked it down onto her blonde locks, then she picked up the dusty black hairdryer and held it near her head without switching it on. ‘I just can’t help worrying that, I don’t know, all this that we’re doing now, Operation Clippety, we’ve been looking forward to this for so long but is it just a dream? I mean, what are we thinking, are we mad?’

 

‘Operation Clippety,’ Marni chuckled. ‘Clippety Klopp! I forgot that was the codename we’d given to our project. Maybe you’re right but you’ve got to remember that this has been meticulously planned. You’ve done your bit and I’ve done mine and it’s all going to work out. We are going to have our hero in this very room, we’re going to touch him, talk to him, do things to him.’

 

Clare observed her reflection for a few seconds, tilted her head slightly and ran her fingers through her hair. ‘Speaking of,’ she coughed nervously, ‘do you mind if I have a look at these drugged up sweets you’ve prepared.’

 

‘Why, don’t you trust me?’

 

‘Yes of course I trust you but I don’t ever take drugs so I just want to see if it’s something that would arouse suspicion if it were offered to me, that’s all.’

 

‘Okay they’re right at the bottom of my bag. I was worried about sniffer dogs at the station so I buried it deep, after all this is Liverpool.’

 

‘They didn’t even check our ticket Marni, plus, from what I’ve seen so far, Liverpool seems more civilised than most places I’ve visited recently. Anyway those dogs can sniff out anything; a dead man’s finger at the bottom of the sea, for example.’

 

‘A….’ Marni turned around slowly and grinned, ‘a chocolate finger in an ocean of custard.’

 

Clare laughed. ‘That’s a good one. I know, a ladies finger in a……prawn biryani.’

 

But Marni was quick to outdo her. ‘A finger of fudge in a frozen fish finger factory!’

 

Clare laughed so that her entire body shook. ‘What the hell? I don’t know how to respond to that, Marni.’

 

 

‘Remember Christopher’s fish finger allergy?’

 

They both bent over into stifled hysterics. ‘Oh my god, Marni, stop it,’ Clare held her fingers just beneath her eyes, ‘I don’t want my mascara to run! It was all frozen fish wasn’t it?’

 

‘Aye, that’s right. He was alright with fresh though, funnily enough. What’s that about?’

 

‘I wonder what he’s doing right now.’

 

‘I don’t know. You always ask that question of men from our past Clare. I couldn’t care less about any of them. He’s probably polishing his Warcraft figurines, or ironing his chest hair.’  

 

Clare let out a big sigh. ‘Seriously though Marni, those dogs can sniff drugs from miles away.’

 

‘Can they? My special Love Hearts, they’re wrapped and wrapped in cling film. I’ll dig them out and show you anyway.’

 

Marni went rummaging in her rucksack, this time pulling out underwear, pyjamas, a bag of prunes, mouthwash, slippers and finally a bunch of clear plastic bags all tucked inside each other. ‘These are they, the personalised sweets I ordered, they were quite expensive actually.’

 

Clare put down the hairdryer and inspected the roll of Love Hearts each one with the message, printed in bold red writing, Jer gonna love me back. ‘Oh wow, I love the message, very clever Marni. They look gorgeous too and they smell so nice. Well done for getting these. Can I have one?’

 

‘No! I told you, they were expensive,’ said Marni as she took bags out of bags, placing them on the bed until she reached something dusty deep inside the inner bag. ‘Here we are, these are the special ones, impregnated with the Brugmansia or Angel’s Trumpet as they call it.’

 

‘All these names are confusing me.’

 

‘Actually the street name for it is Devil’s Breath.’

 

‘Street name? Oh god, they look dodgy as hell Marni!’

 

‘They are from hell, they’re the Devil’s Breath I said.’

 

‘Yes but that one, that roll of sweets looks dodgy, compared with the clean, unadulterated ones you just showed me.’

 

‘Do you think?’

 

‘Yes, the wrapper is too dusty, you can barely read the message. It looks like an old roll of sweets you found down the side of the sofa. I wouldn’t eat them. He’s a rich man, he’s got standards, he’ll turn that away,’ she said, shaking her head sternly.

 

Marni blew some air out of her cheeks and looked down at the spiked sweets. She pulled a face and said, ‘I suppose they got a bit thrown about in my bag on the way here. I could take a clean packet and dust them anew. I've still got a tiny amount of the powder, it’s in a separate bag.’

 

‘It’s a bloody good job there were no sniffer dogs Marni!’

 

‘I doubt they’ve been trained to identify and signal for this stuff to be honest. It’s quite new, the kids aren’t really into it yet and Fudge is legit, he doesn’t sell to kids obviously.’

 

Clare raised her eyebrows and said, ‘Obviously.’

 

Marni knelt down next to the bed, using it as a table while Clare looked perplexed and fiddled with her hair, squirting mousse into the palm of her hand and gently applying it to the problem area of her hair. There was a magazine on the coffee table in their room, a thin glossy publication filled with events in and around Liverpool. The surface of the bed was too uneven for the task Marni was about to undertake so she grabbed the magazine and carefully placed it on top of the bed. Then she took a new roll of Love Heart sweets and unwrapped them very gently. 

 

For the next part of the operation she closed her mouth and locked down her nostrils, being careful not to breathe in too much of the surrounding, contaminated air. She opened the tiny bag of Devil’s Breath and emptied the dust slowly onto the surface of the magazine and she was just about to gently coat the first sweet when Clare turned the hairdryer on. ‘Clare, please turn that off for now!’ Marni shouted but she had the sort of voice which always weakened and cracked when she attempted to shout.

 

Clare didn’t hear, she shook the hair dryer from side to side and wildly swayed her hair, pulling a face, infuriated that her untruly locks wouldn’t get in line. The Devil’s Breath powder took off from the surface of the magazine and danced in the air, catching the light which streamed in through the window, bright white light from the big skies above the Mersey.

 

‘Clare, for absolute fuck’s sake, will you turn that off!’

 

‘What, are you swearing at me?’ 

 

‘Turn it off, it’s like a tornado in here!’

 

Clare switched it off and the room suddenly seemed very silent. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise you were in the middle of....’

 

‘You got air on my special powder, some of it blew away in a cloud.’

 

‘Oh god, I’m sorry, you should have warned me. It’s such fine stuff isn’t it. Are we going to get done, will the hotel staff know we’ve got drugs in here?’

 

‘I don’t see how. The issue is more that we’ve wasted some of it.’

 

‘But is there enough for Jurgen’s sweet? Is there any way we can get more?’

 

‘We can get more, I’m sure we can get anything, this is Liverpool, but I think we’re alright. I think I’ve still got enough left for Operation Clippetty. We only need a little.’ She rubbed the sweet gently on the paper and re-wrapped it, then followed with another. ’It’s all done now, it’s very potent stuff. He’ll be putty in our hands.’