Corryvreckan
"Director, I hope you don't mind. I have had a call from a solicitor in Edinburgh. Some distant relation of my mother's has died, and as one of the last remaining living relatives, and in Scots law, if ancestors of an intestate, remoter than grandparents, on both paternal and maternal sides generation by generation successively take the whole, but if no ancestors survive in any generation their brothers and sisters come before ancestors of the next more remote generation. I believe there is quite a substantial legacy. So if I may be excused and allowed some leave…"
"Dr Mallard I have no idea what you just said. But if you insist this is important, then I will allow. How long do you think you will gone?" The Director asked.
"Three weeks. I was thinking, my old colleague and University chum, Dr Lauchlan McLauchlan, Jethro met him once remember? I could look him up, well call see if he was free for a few days. Reminisce about old times…" Dr Mallard never got to finish.
"Doctor, you arrange a stand-in, I'll sign your leave card." Anything for a quiet life Director Vance thought, returning to his case file.
Dr Mallard made his way down the stairs humming Scotland the Brave and then Caledonia.
"You sound happy Duks." Gibbs said looking up and smiling.
"I am. I'm going, to Edinburgh, for a few weeks. Remember Dr Lauchlan McLauchlan?" now looking at Tony and Gibbs.
"That not the ME we met, when we went to Scotland that time?" Tony asked, "When I got bitten to death by mosquitoes?"
"It is indeed, my dear boy. I will tell him you were asking after him, if he is free to meet," as Ducky walked away, to autopsy, to tell Jimmy, of his vacation.
-oOo-
The Continental Airline's flight from Washington DC via Newark to Edinburgh, was on time. It departed only a few minutes late, just after 5pm, it would stop briefly in Newark before the transatlantic flight to Edinburgh. Although a nine and a half hour flight, it landed slightly early due to a tail wind at 07:15. Due to Ducky's due nationality and British passport, customs and immigration was a breeze, which was what he experienced vacating the customs area and into the foyer. He looked around, then, heard the bellowing roar of Dr McLauchlan.
"Donald, Duks. Over here."
Ducky looked in the direction of the voice and saw the looming large form of his friend striding towards him.
"Lachie. My dear boy, so glad to see you again."
"Ducky, give me your case. We'll call a taxi, or should I say cab," now laughing, "The bar beckons."
"Lachie, do you know how long I have been traveling?" a weary Dr Mallard announced.
"Duks, your carriage awaits," handing the taxi driver the luggage, "You room has been waiting since last night. As, you, so forwardly, booked. So rest my friend. Then we will have time to drink to our old times."
Ducky just looked at his friend, smiled, and wondered did Lachie, model himself on James Robertson Justice, or did the character Sir Lancelot rub off, on Lachie.
-oOo-
They arrived at the Learmonth Hotel, on Queensferry Road. It had been like all good old Victorian terrace town houses. Magnificent in its day, but what do you do with houses that no longer need servants and gentry, you turn them into flats or hotels. The Learmonth, 18-20 Learmonth Terrace. Now, a luxurious Travel-lodge, just across the Dean Bridge, and over, the Water of Leith. The Water of Leith it flowed through the heart of Auld Reekie. Why Auld Reekie? It went back to the days when buildings were heated by coal and wood fires. The chimneys, spewing thick columns of smoke into the air, choking the inhabitants, and turning the building black.
Dr Mallard checked in, put the Do Not Disturb sign outside the door, crawled into the bed, and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.
He woke refreshed mid-afternoon. Opening the curtains he looked over the roofs of the New Town, down to the Forth. Fife in the distance, oh it was good to be home. He dressed and went to enquire of his friend. He found Lachie in the bar, telling tales of yesterday, to a group Japanese tourists. Of Post Mortems he had performed, before becoming a GP up in the highlands. They were buying him whisky.
"Donald, pray join us," he boomed, "My friends please be upstanding for a Scot who has, how they say, got on, in the world. He is now Chief Medical Examiner in Washington DC, for NCIS."
"Lachie, you exaggerate, but yes, I am a ME for NCIS. Now what can I buy you?" he now enquired of the group, but seeing the drinks put down before him. He knew he had to keep a clear head and try and relate tales of the team.
The afternoon stretched to evening. The Japanese had departed , as had Lachie, "Need to have a shower before dinner." As he staggered, to the door. Dr Mallard looked at the dinner menu. He wondered if he should wake his friend or take a stroll before dinner. He left the menu on the table, and walked into Stockbridge, he needed to see how far the Solicitors office was from the hotel.
Donald Mallard walked down Dean Park, past Danube Street, where a notorious brothel mentioned in, Ian Rankin's Strip Jack was. He remembered 1977, when the USS John F Kennedy had docked at Leith. The ship had offloaded hundreds of sex-starved sailors into Edinburgh and straight to the front door, where the queue for the girls' services is said to have stretched all the way to Ann Street. He smiled, yes he remembered. He continued his walk down to Raeburn Place, back along Comely Bank and up Orchard Brae, he was ready for dinner.
-oOo-
Breakfast saw Donald sitting alone, until the larger than life form of Lachie appeared. He was somewhat quieter, this morning.
"Donald. How are we this bright morning?" He enquired.
"Lachie, never better, but as a ME and you a GP, I think scrambled eggs on toast, and sweet tea."
"Now that sounds good." Lachie muttered.
They ate in silence.
"What time do you see your Solicitors?" Lachie eventually ventured.
"11 o'clock this morning, so I was wondering, if you would like a walk along the old Water of Leith. We could maybe talk of old times, and of old writers and new," thinking Ian Rankin, and Irvine Walsh, "And you really do need to clear the cob-webs from your head."
"Why Duks that would be good, we could pass the old Dean Cemetery. Sir Thomas Bouch is interred here. It was just a year after the Tay Bridge, which he had designed, suffered its disastrous collapse. I believe the families of those, are trying for a memorial." Lachie answered.
"So sad, but yes shall we say 5 minutes?" Ducky replied.
-oOo-
They met in the foyer.
"Ready?" Ducky enquired as they walked into the late spring sunshine, turning right they walked through the cemetery and down the wooded path to the Water of Leith. Looking over the weir, they saw fish jumping. Through the old Dean Village, they continued along the path of the Water of Leith. They walked under the Dean Bridge, a magnificent piece of Victorian architecture designed by Thomas Telford.
The pair continued under the bridge, and made their way past the monument above St Bernard's Well, once a famous spa for the local gentry, on the way to Stockbridge.
"Remember "The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie?" Ducky questioned.
"But of course. How could we ever forget the bit where Jenny was, accosted by a man joyfully exposing himself beside the water of Leith. The police investigation, of the exposure, lead Sandy to imagine herself as part of a fictional police force," now laughing, "Seeking incriminating evidence in respect of Miss Brodie and Mr Lowther."
"Quite Lachie, but look over there, beside the reeds and the rocky alcove, it looks like a body."
"Duks, my old friend you have been too long investigating strange deaths, you now imagine a tailor's mannequin to be a body. It will be the medical students of today, having a bit of a prank." Lachie roared.
"If that be the case Lachie, why does it have a red deep gash in the cranium?"