Death By Darjeeling

Chapter 19

There were two Jory Davises listed in the phone book, but one lived over in West Ashley. So Theodosia figured the one she wanted had to be the one on Halsey, near the marina. Anyway, it certainly sounded like an area where the Jory Davis she’d spoken with this morning might reside.

“Hello?”

Same voice, same Jory Davis. Theodosia breathed a quick sigh of relief. “Mr. Davis? Hello, this is Theodosia Browning. Sorry to bother you at home, but you were so helpful this morning, and I have just a quick question for you.”

“Uh-huh,” said the voice, sounding slightly discombobulated and not at all the calm, efficient, buttoned-up lawyer he’d come across as earlier.

“I know this is out of the blue, but does buying-selling mean anything to you?” Theodosia asked.

There was a loud clunk on the other end of the line.

“Mr. Davis? Are you all right?”

In a moment, Jory Davis was back on the line. “Sorry, I dropped the phone. I’m in the kitchen trying to whip together a vinaigrette. I know it sounds kind of dorky, but I’ve got this bachelor’s group coming to my place tonight. Four of us, all lawyers, who get together once a month for dinner. Kind of a boy’s night out. Two of the fellows are divorced, so this is probably the only decent meal they get for a while. Anyway, long story short, tonight’s my turn, and I’m hysterical. I was stuck at the office writing a legal brief until almost six-thirty, and now I’m halfway through this recipe and just found out I don’t have any prepared English mustard. So, my question to you is this: Can I use plain old yellow mustard? Hot dog mustard?”

“I don’t see why not,” said Theodosia as she thought to herself, Bachelor’s group. Interesting.

“And chives. It doesn’t look good in the chives department, either. Problem?”

“Maybe you could pinch hit with a flavored olive oil. That would give your vinaigrette a little extra snap.”

“Flavored olive oil,” he muttered. “Yeah, I got some of that. Basil, I think. Awright, we’re good to go.”

Now there was the sound of a wire whisk swooshing against the sides of a glass bowl.

“What did you want to know about a buy-sell?” Jory Davis asked.

Theodosia inhaled sharply.

“Miss Browning?” said Jory. “You still there?”

“That’s it!” exclaimed Theodosia. “A buy-sell. It’s a kind of agreement, right?”

“A buy-sell agreement, correct,” said Jory Davis matter-of-factly.

“Two partners would have this type of agreement?”

“They should. Although many don’t plan ahead all that well.”

“And one partner might want to rescind at some point in time?”

“Sure, it happens. But I still don’t see where you’re going.”

“I didn’t either,” said Theodosia. “But I think I just arrived there anyway. Mr. Davis, thank you! Good luck with your dinner.”

“That’s it?” he asked.

“Oh,” said Theodosia, “you’re still bringing those papers by, right?”