“It was kind of you to help out on this matter.”
“My pleasure.” Jory Davis cleared his throat. “Hughes Barron, the
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.”
Chapter 14
Located southwest of Charleston, Johns Island is a big boomerang-shaped piece of land. It is only technically an island in that it is surrounded by waters that include the Stono River, Intracoastal Waterway, Kiawah River, and Bohicket Creek. For many years, Johns Island was a sleepy, rural backwater. Farms dotted the landscape, and a few charming villages served as small bedroom communities for Charleston.
But all that began to change a few years before, as home prices in Charleston escalated, the economy boomed, and the entire Charleston area began to strain its boundaries.
Real estate developers eyed the still-affordable rolling farms of Johns Island as prime targets for development and began to snatch up properties. Long-time Johns Island residents suddenly saw their rural utopia and relaxed way of life about to be threatened. Tensions ran high.
In stepped Hughes Barron, thought Theodosia, as she maneuvered her Jeep Cherokee through light midmorning traffic on the Maybank Highway. Jory Davis’s call this morning had made her, as they say, curiouser and curiouser. So she had jumped into her Jeep, rolled back the canvas cover, and was now enjoying the exhilaration of an open-air ride.
She knew Hughes Barron had been one of the first developers to pounce on property out there. It wasn’t exactly prime oceanfront, but the Atlantic Ocean did flow in between Kiawah and James Islands and create some wonderful tidal rivers and marshes.
Exiting Maybank, Theodosia followed Rivertree Road for a good five miles, then hung a right on Old Camp Road. Those were the directions she’d gotten earlier when she’d phoned the sales office at Hughes Barron’s so- called Edge-water Estates. But right now she was seeing only pastoral vistas and farmland. Just when she thought she must have gotten off course and was prepared to turn around, an enormous, colorful billboard rose up out of a field of waving, yellow tobacco.
Edgewater Estates, the sign proclaimed in painted pinks and greens. Time-Share Condominiums. Own A Piece Of History. Deluxe 1, 2, and 3 Bedrooms. Developed By Goose Creek Holdings.
Theodosia wondered just what piece of history it was that came part and parcel with your Edgewater Estates time-share condo. What had the greedy developer, Hughes Barron, been referring to?
The archaeological remains of the Cusabo Indians who had lived here 400 years ago?
The barely visible ruins of an old Civil War fort? Constructed of crushed lime and oyster shells, an amalgam known as tabby, the old fort had begun to crumble even before the turn of the last century.
How about the 900 acres set aside by the Marine Resources Department?
No matter, she told herself. She wasn’t here today to do a consumer confidence check on Goose Creek Holdings. She was here because, armed with information Jory Davis had provided, her curiosity was running at a fever pitch. Everything she’d heard about Hughes Barron told her the man was definitely not Mr. Popularity. He had to have made enemies. Lots of them. When land was at stake, or multimillion-dollar real estate deals, that’s when people got very, very serious. And sometimes very, very nasty.
Swinging into the entrance of Edgewater Estates, a circular, white-crushed-rock drive that wound around a five-tiered fountain, Theodosia hated the place on sight. The building wasn’t just the antithesis of Johns Island. Rather, it looked more like a retirement village in south Florida.
Edgewater Estates Time Share Condominiums was big, sprawling, and gaudy. Stone cherubs and doves flanked the building’s main entrance, while the building itself was painted what could only be described as tropical green. Accents of white shutters and false balustrades completed the garish touches.
Hughes Barron or, more likely, his architect, had borrowed drips and drops from Charleston architecture. Unfortunately, they seemed to have thrown out what was true and good and classic and reconstituted it into something overblown and commercial.
“Good morning. Welcome to Edgewater Estates.” A perky young woman, probably no older than twenty-six,
