Death By Darjeeling

Chapter 13

Leyland Hartwell was as good as his word. The next

morning, the phone rang bright and early.

“Miss Browning?”

“Yes?” answered Theodosia.

“Jory Davis here. I’m an associate with Ligget, Hume, Hartwell. Leyland Hartwell wanted me to call you concerning information we gathered for you. He also wanted me to assure you he would’ve phoned personally, but he was called into an emergency meeting.” There was a slight pause. “Miss Browning?”

“Yes, Mr. Davis. Please go on.”

“Anyway, that is why I am the bearer of this information.”

“It was kind of you to help out on this matter.”

“My pleasure.” Jory Davis cleared his throat. “Hughes Barron, the late Hughes Barron, was a real estate developer of the worst kind. Realize, now, this is me editorializing.”

Theodosia had been hunkered down in her office like a hermit crab, pondering what to do next about Bethany, about business, and now this pleasant man with the rich, deep voice was able to coax a smile out of her. She had seen the name Jory Davis mentioned several times in the business section of the newspaper and in the Charleston Yacht Club’s newsletter but had never met him. Now, however, she was intrigued.

Jory Davis continued as though he were giving a final summation before a jury. “Barron’s track record in California includes not paying contractors, defaulting on mortgages, and fraudulent activity regarding low-interest loans for senior housing that was never built. Obviously, there are more than a few people and government agencies in California who are... were... pursuing Hughes Barron.”

Theodosia’s silver pen bobbed as she jotted down notes.

“We also did a search of local city and county records and found that Hughes Barron has a silent partner, a Mr. Lleveret Dante. Not surprisingly, this Mr. Dante is currently under indictment by the state of Kentucky for a mortgage-flipping scam and, apparently, had Hughes Barron serving as front man for the pair here in Charleston. Their corporate name is Goose Creek Holdings, a nod to the area north of here where Mr. Barron grew up. Corporate offices for Goose Creek Holdings are located at 415 Harper Street. Stop me if you already know any or all of this, Miss Browning,” said Jory Davis rather breathlessly.

Theodosia was impressed. Jory Davis had seemingly thrown himself headlong into researching Hughes Barron for her.

“This is enormously enlightening,” said Theodosia. “And highly entertaining,” she added.

“Good,” said Jory Davis. “Now that I know I have such an appreciative audience, I’ll continue. Goose Creek’s first real estate project was a time-share condominium on nearby Johns Island known as Edgewater Estates. Edge-water Estates still has a lawsuit pending by the Shorebird Environmentalist Group, but their lawyers have been stalling on it. Early on, this Shorebird Group succeeded in obtaining a court order to stop the development but then lost when it was overturned by a higher court. Goose Creek Holdings also owns undeveloped land in West Ashley and Berkeley County. But it’s just raw property, no condos or strip malls yet.” There was a rustle of papers. “That’s pretty much a quick overview on Hughes Barron, the Cliffs Notes version, anyway. I have a sheaf of papers that includes a little more in-depth information. On the lawsuits as well as the condos and property holdings. I’m sure you’ll want to take a look at it.”

“Mr. Davis,” said Theodosia, “your fact-finding has been extremely helpful. I can’t thank you enough.”

“Please, call me Jory. Miss Browning, I understand your father used to be a senior partner at our firm.”

“Yes, he and Leyland started the practice back in the midseventies.”

“You’re family, then, aren’t you?”

Theodosia couldn’t help but smile. “What a kind way to put it.”

“Miss Browning, like I said, I’ve got some background information for you. I can drop these papers in the mail for you, or perhaps we could meet for a cup of coffee?”

“I own a tea shop.”

Jory Davis never missed a beat. “Cup of tea. Better yet.”

Theodosia chuckled. She liked this hot-shot attorney who had started out so curiously formal and then veered toward not quite hitting on her, but darn close to it.

“The Indigo Tea Shop,” said Theodosia. “On Church Street. Drop by anytime.”