by Kari Bovee
“Well, he ate with us. I’d say at around twelve fifteen. I know for sure because I was worried about Buck and wanted to get back up on deck to check him within the hour.”
The doctor took his pocket watch from his vest. “One thirty. And shortly after that, he dove overboard with Mr. Butler to rescue your horse.”
“Frank?” Annie turned to her husband, hoping he would share with them what he had shared with her.
Frank ran a hand through his wet, blond hair. “Mr. Bhakta didn’t dive overboard.”
“I don’t understand.” The doctor shook his head.
“Neither did I. I had every intention to, of course—dive overboard to go after the horse—but before I could get my coat off, I was pushed— Mr. Bhakta was directly behind me, so either he pushed me, or he was pushed, too.”
“This doesn’t sound good to me,” Mr. Everett said.
“That leaves me to conclude that Mr. Bhakta was well on his way to death before he was pushed overboard,” said Dr. Adams.
“What do you mean?” A skittering of prickles ran down Annie’s back.
Dr. Adams turned to address her. “We can’t rule out the possibility that Mr. Bhakta was murdered.”
“Buck is out there alone,” Annie said to Mr. Everett as he pulled a blanket up over Mr. Bhakta’s body to cover his head.
“Yes, we should go back on deck.”
“I’ve got things in hand here, for the moment,” Dr. Adams addressed Mr. Everett. “You’ve got your patient, I’ve got mine.”
Mr. Everett straightened up slowly. “I’ll take some blankets up there for Buck and make sure he is kept warm until he comes out of his drug-induced state. You two go get into some dry clothes,” he said to Annie and Frank.
“We’re coming with you,” Annie said through chattering teeth.
“Annie, you’re freezing.” Frank grasped her around the shoulders.
“I’ll be fine. Where do we find those blankets?”
Mr. Everett exchanged glances with Frank, who raised his hands in surrender.
On deck, Annie, Frank and Mr. Everett stood watching the prone horse that still hadn’t moved. Annie’s fingertips were numb, and her body began to tire from the endless shaking and teeth chattering. Frank rubbed her arms and shoulders, but her slim figure and tiny frame provided no insulation against the wet and cold of the storm. Frank tried to coax her indoors, again, but Annie wouldn’t take her eyes from Buck, still lying on deck.
Pelted by rain and doused with the occasional wave breaking over the railing, Buck slept on as if he lay in a sunny field of wildflowers. Mr. Everett had covered him with wool blankets, but Annie wondered how much warmth those blankets could possibly provide, given the amount of cold water sloshing around him.
“Excuse me,” Mr. Everett said, his shoulders hunched from the cold. “I’m going to check on the other animals. Give a holler if Buck wakes.”
Annie and Frank nodded, and Frank took another blanket and wrapped himself and Annie in it. It was horribly itchy but provided protection from the wind.
“Poor Bhakta,” Frank said.
“Yes, it’s incredible. Who would want to kill him?” Annie asked. “Or you?”
“We aren’t positive he was killed. Or that anyone is out to kill me.”
“We can’t be too sure,” Annie said. “We can’t rule out murder. If he was killed, it could have been anyone. A passenger? Someone in the crew?”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions just yet.” Frank held her closer.
“But Frank, you said someone pushed Mr. Bhakta overboard. It seems someone wanted to make sure Bhakta died. I wonder if the captain aims to investigate.”
“Annie—” Frank’s voice echoed a familiar warning.
“Don’t look at me that way, Frank. You could have been killed too. We need to find out who this person is before they try again. Who knows who might be their next target?”
“I don’t think you should get involved, Annie. Leave it to the authorities.”
“Right now, I’m so cold I can’t even think straight.” Annie snuggled closer to Frank. “Maybe Mr. Bhakta wasn’t a target. Maybe it was a random killing.”
“Annie. Stop. You really have become somewhat of a worrier, dear.” But Frank’s voice betrayed his own worry. She couldn’t help but love him a bit more for wanting to calm her fears, despite his own. He was her steady rock in every situation, but no matter what reassurances he gave, she wouldn’t let this go.
He stroked her hair. “All will be taken care of. Look.”
Buck was stirring and his eyes fluttered open. With great effort, he lifted his neck off the deck, curled his legs under him, and heaved a great sigh.
“Mr. Everett!” Annie called out to the vet and then rushed to her horse. She sat down next to him and flung her arms around his neck. Buck nickered softly and turned his head into her body.
Mr. Everett poked his head out from one of the other stalls and then rushed over to them, Bobby trailing behind him.
“Ah! Excellent. Once he stands, we will get him into his stall, rub him down and put a dry blanket on him. Poor chap must be freezing.”
“Will he catch cold?” Annie asked, relieved, yet still worried.
“We’ll get dry blankets on him and feed him some warm, sweet mash. That’s the best we can do.” Mr. Everett eyed Annie and Frank up and down. “I may not be a doctor for humans anymore, but I know you two could definitely fall ill unless you get out of those wet clothes and go indoors immediately.”
“I’ve been trying to get this stubborn woman out of the cold for the past hour.” Frank pulled Annie to her feet. “She won’t leave her horse.”
“Not until he’s safely settled in his stall,” Annie chattered. “What made you want to become a veterinarian?” she asked Mr. Everett, curious about his earlier statement.
“I’ve always wanted to work with animals. My father had different ideas for my education, so I became a physician. I never lost the desire to become a veterinarian, and decided to pursue my dream.”
“Did that upset your father?”
“At first. After I saved one of his prized race horses from colic, he changed his tune.”
With a tremendous groan, Buck set his front legs out in front of him and pushed up, getting to a sitting position where he rested a moment, as if gathering the strength to lift the rest of his body. Then he surged forward, uncurled his hind legs, and pushed up to standing.
The last time Annie had seen her beloved Buck so unsteady was when his legs had buckled from fatigue from overwork by McCrimmon. The man had beaten him nearly senseless when he couldn’t pull a load. But this time was even worse, thanks to the sedative and ocean dive. Images of Buck leaping over the side of the ship raced through her mind, and she shook her head to clear them. As if reading her thoughts, Buck gave a low nicker.
“Looks like Buck thinks you should get indoors as well,” Frank admonished.
Annie wrapped her arms around Buck’s head. “Thank goodness you are safe, my friend. I hope you’ve learned your lesson. Panicking when you’re afraid will land you nowhere but in trouble.”
Buck let out a loud snort, shaking his head. He then shook the wet blankets off his body.
“Come on, now. Let’s get him into his stall.” Mr. Everett took Buck’s lead line and led him inside. “Bobby could you run and get some cotton cloths and a couple sets of dry horse blankets.”
Buck snorted again, releasing his previous stress and anxiety, and rubbed his head against the veterinarian, the cold water probably making it itch.
When Bobby returned with the cloths, Annie grabbed one and began rubbing it over Buck’s neck and back.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Frank grabbed her by the arm. He took the cloth from her and flung it at Bobby. “Buck will be fine now. You must go inside, my dear. We can’t have you ill.”
Annie looked up at Frank with pursed lips and downturned brows.
“Now.”
“I’ll take
care of Buck, Annie.” Bobby was rubbing the horse’s neck and chest vigorously.
“Very well,” Annie said with a sigh. “Mr. Everett, you will give me a report once Buck is completely settled?”
“Of course. I think he’s going to be fine.”
Finally satisfied, Annie let Frank lead her downstairs and into the side door of the large lobby. The heated air hit Annie’s face, making it tingle as it began to warm.
“Let’s get you into bed.” Frank hustled her to the hallway nearest their stateroom.
“Bed? It’s only afternoon, Frank. I’ll warm up once I get into some dry clothes. But what about Mr. Bhakta? We must find out what’s happening, what Dr. Adams has determined.”
“Annie.”
“Very well. I’ll change my clothes, but I won’t get into bed. Not until I know what happened to Mr. Bhakta. You should probably get out of those wet clothes yourself. I can’t have my hero getting sick.” Annie knew she could soften his sternness. She always could, and tried to use it to her advantage as much as possible.
“I don’t suppose there is another human being on earth who loves me as much as you do.” Annie wrapped her arms around Frank’s neck.
“You are a handful, Miss Oakley.” Frank pulled her closer, rubbing her back.
“Nonsense!” Annie slapped his shoulder.
“Let’s get dressed.”
“Yes, sir.” Annie turned to walk down the hall. She paused. “And Frank?”
“What is it now?”
“I love you, too. More than anyone else.”
Frank raised an eyebrow. “Really? Are you sure?”
Annie nodded. “After Buck, yes!”
Chapter Five
Annie, Frank, Dr. Adams, and the captain stood silently staring at the body of Mr. Bhakta, once again clothed and lying on the mattress of the built-in bed frame in the captain’s stateroom. Annie hadn’t had the chance to notice the masculine stateliness of the room before. Her gaze traveled over the heavy, leather-bound furniture and framed maps. The smell of pipe tobacco was so dense it seemed to ooze from the walls. A large Persian rug lined the wooden floor and held an oversized table with maps, compasses, and other navigating tools strewn across the top.
Annie, now in a dry, cotton dress and wool sweater, a woolen blanket wrapped around her shoulders, sank into one of the leather chairs next to Frank, who stood with the other men. She didn’t want to admit it, but her arms and legs ached from numbness as her body continued to warm itself. Her stomach felt as if she’d been punched, and her head ached. She hoped she hadn’t caught her death—to perish before she had a chance to be received by the queen. But she wouldn’t have done anything different. She had to see Buck safe.
Annie still couldn’t quite wrap her head around the fact that the esteemed friend to Queen Victoria had just died. Possibly been killed. The mere idea fueled the chill racing through her limbs, despite the heavy wool blanket she used as a shawl. Had he been more than a friend? Someone connected to the government? She didn’t recall him introducing himself with a title, but he’d obviously been a royal appointee. She wondered how his death might impact those in the queen’s circle, or the queen herself. Had someone aimed to kill Frank? Had he been pushed overboard because of his proximity to Mr. Bhakta? Or was something deeper going on?
“I think it best we do not tell the passengers that Mr. Bhakta’s death is suspicious, but only that he drowned in an attempt to save the horse,” the captain announced to the small group, which now included the late Mr. Bhakta’s valet, Mr. Patel.
“But what shall we do with the body?” Dr. Adams asked, his waxed and twirled mustache bouncing up and down with each syllable. “We need it for evidence.”
The group continued to stare at the soggy body of Amal Bhakta, as if he were a freak-show act.
“Seems a bit morbid to keep him—er—it.” The captain frowned. “We’d usually give the deceased a burial at sea. Are you absolutely sure he was murdered, Doctor?”
“Not absolutely, but we must be certain. We have to keep the body.”
“I see. Well, then. I suppose we can keep him in the refrigeration hold. Plenty of ice down there.”
Annie winced. “Can we dress him in some dry clothes? It seems so. . . .”
They all turned to look at Annie with puzzled faces.
“Doesn’t seem like it matters much, now, does it?” Frank said.
“I hate to be so indelicate, Miss Oakley.” Dr. Adams placed a white sheet over the body. “But the fact that his clothes are wet will help with the . . . er . . . preservation of the body. We’ve got a way to go before we get to England.”
“Mr. Patel, did Mr. Bhakta suffer from apoplexy?” Dr. Adams asked the bespectacled valet. “Do you know?”
Mr. Patel blinked up at the doctor through his wire-rimmed spectacles. “No. He was perfectly healthy to my knowledge.”
“Right,” said the doctor, fidgeting with his mustache. “It might be he ingested something harmful, either on purpose or accidentally. I will look through the books I have on board to gather more information on internal bleeding and blood poisoning. We’ll also have to see the manifest. Question every single person on this ship. Captain? What say you?”
The captain pursed his lips in thought. “Yes. I suppose you are right. Until we can inform the proper authorities.”
“Who has jurisdiction on the ship?” Annie asked.
“The captain acts as the law enforcement officer here,” Frank said.
“Indeed, Mr. Butler.” The captain rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “I will address the matter. Now, if you will please go to your stateroom, Mr. and Mrs.—er, that is—”
“But sir.” Annie stood up. “Will you have time to run the ship and investigate a murder?”
“She has a point,” Dr. Adams said. “If you’d like, I could start questioning the passengers.”
“And the crew.” Annie wrapped her hand around Frank’s arm.
The captain’s cheeks turned a pale shade of red. Annie knew she’d pushed too hard. She offered him a smile, but his eyes drifted toward Dr. Adams.
“I appoint you chief deputy in this investigation, Doctor. Please keep me apprised of all important details. I am sure we will be able to ferret out who would want to dispose of Mr. Bhakta.”
“Or Mr. Butler,” Mr. Patel spoke up, his voice as high-pitched as a child’s. His small stature, concave chest, and large blinking eyes added to the impression that he had not yet reached the age of twenty, but at closer inspection, one could see the wisdom that etched his face, giving him a much older appearance.
“Why Frank?” asked Annie.
“His association with the anti-English Fenian Brotherhood.”
Frank’s arm tensed under Annie’s hand. “I have no affiliation with the Fenian Brotherhood,” he said. “I have never associated myself with any nationalist movement. I am an American through and through.”
A gasp from the doorway caught everyone’s attention. They turned to see a pretty young woman with dark auburn hair standing there, eyes wide and staring at the body.
The captain hurried to the door. “Miss Brady, how may I help you?”
The woman leaned around the captain to see inside the room. “I was looking for my mo—for Miss Parsons. Have you seen her?” The girl’s eyes glittered with excitement, her gaze bouncing back and forth between the captain and the interior of the room. Annie thought she looked altered in some way, excited, distressed. Her cheeks blushed bright crimson, and she seemed out of breath.
“Are you quite all right, Miss Brady? Shall I escort you to your room?” The captain eased his way into the doorway, blocking her attempt to come further into the room. She stepped away, out of view. The captain said a few more words Annie could not hear and then came back into the room, shutting the door.
“She shouldn’t have seen this,” he said. “I don’t want the passengers upset. The door should have been closed.” The captain glared at Mr. Patel, whos
e gaze dropped immediately to the floor.
“Excuse my ignorance,” Annie interrupted, wanting to take the heat off Patel. “What exactly is the Fenian Brotherhood?”
“It’s a group of activists advocating for an independent Ireland, Ireland’s complete separation from Great Britain. They believe that the government in London, namely the queen and the Conservatives, did as little as possible to aid the Irish people after the Great Famine,” Frank said.
“The Fenians feel it is a form of genocide,” Mr. Patel added.
“Frank, you’ve never been vocal about this cause,” Annie said.
“I haven’t. I’ve never been passionate about it. I don’t know why I’d be associated with such a group.”
“But your uncle—” Annie began until Frank’s eyes darted to meet hers.
“He passed away some time ago,” he said, giving her a cue not to continue. Annie would have to ask more about his uncle later. In private.
“Obviously, Mr. Patel received his information somewhere,” said the captain. “It seems there is a notion, either misconstrued or somewhat confused, that you are active in Irish politics. We can’t discount that information.”
“Frank active in Irish politics? That’s absurd,” Annie said, her temper threatening to rise.
“We must find out who is perpetrating this rumor, and also find out if Mr. Bhakta was indeed murdered,” said the captain. “Dr. Adams, are you up to the task, sir?”
“I’ll try my best,” Dr. Adams said.
“I’ll leave you to it, then.” The captain bowed slightly. “I must return to the bridge and to my duties.” With his hands behind his back, he exited his quarters, his stiff, leather-soled boots creaking against the floorboards.
“Well, I have my work cut out for me then, don’t I?” Dr. Adams approached Annie and Frank. “I do believe you, sir,” he said to Frank; then he added to both of them, “I must admit, I know nothing about investigating a crime.”
“We could—” Annie started to say something, but she suddenly lost her train of thought. Her head pounded and the room spun. She blinked her eyes to chase away the black spots that covered the room.