The Committee by Terry E. Hill Page A

aside,” Brandon replied dismissively, “the expression ‘moth to flame’ comes to mind. But, it’s your marriage, your fortune, and your funeral. Just remember the people you employ, including me. I’ve got a kid in college and two more coming up behind him. I don’t get as turned on by risk as you do.”
    â€œDon’t worry, Brandon,” Sheridan said confidently. “I got this. Trust me.”
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    Amadeus moved anxiously from one side of his perch to the other, following Juliette Dupree as she walked past his cage to the fireplace. The boned corset her maid had cinched tightly around her waist while she clung to the bedpost gave her the perfectly unnatural hourglass form. Her blue satin dress was sprinkled with finely embroidered flowers of yellows, pinks, and greens on the bodice. Layers upon layers of heavy petticoats and crinoline caused the skirt to blossom into an enormous bell over silk mules crafted especially for her delicate feet.
    Amadeus remained silent for fear of disturbing her concentration as she passed. Juliette stood in front of the fireplace and looked lovingly to the black candle at the center of the mantel. The wick sputtered and sparked at the sight of her, but did not light.
    â€œAh,” she said delightfully, “you have anticipated my intent.”
    Juliette gently picked up the candle, moved to the dining-room table, and placed it directly in front of the chair at the head. The candle joined the other items placed there earlier.
    The first was a lock of Thaddeus Barrière’s hair given to her by Black Dahlia. Dahlia was the young beautiful slave charged with washing Barrière’s clothes, cleaning his private sleeping chamber, and grooming his head of unruly brown hair. Dahlia had been raped and abused by Barrière from the day she set foot on his plantation. The state of Louisiana, however, did not consider it rape, as she was merely property with which he could do as he pleased. He also generously shared the sweetness of her flower with his houseguests, associates with whom he desired to gain favor, and even traveling salesmen.
    Juliette would often allow Dahlia to try on the numerous gowns, gloves, and hats filling her closets and bureaus. She would spritz Dahlia with French perfume from crystal atomizers and hang glittering diamonds, rubies, and emeralds from her ears, neck, and wrists.
    â€œMiss Juliette,” Dahlia would say posing in front of the mirror, “you is the luckiest colored woman in da whole wide world. And far more prettier than any sadity white woman I eva did lay eyes on.”
    On the day Dahlia handed Juliette the lock of hair wrapped in a cloth napkin, she avoided eye contact and said, “I don’t wan’na know what you aim on do’n wit’ it, but whateva it tis, I hope it be terrible bad, ma’am. Terrible bad.”
    The second item on the table was a bill containing the signature of Thaddeus Barrière written in blue ink.
    Juliette received the paper from Rufus Taylor. Rufus was a slave on loan from a plantation in Minton, Louisiana. His skills as a tailor were given to the owner of the local fine apparel shop in exchange for suits the plantation owner received but did not have the ready cash to pay for.
    Taylor had numerous unpleasant encounters at the shop with Thaddeus Barrière. The most memorable of which happened on the day Barrière came in to complain about a button missing from a suit he’d sent to the shop for alterations.
    Rufus was unfortunate enough to be alone in the shop when he arrived.
    â€œWhere is you master, nigger,” Barrière stormed into the shop barking.
    â€œHe’ll be back shortly, sir. May I hep you?” Rufus answered sheepishly.
    â€œThe day a nigger can help me is the day I put a bullet through my brain.”
    Barrière tossed the suit in question at Rufus’s face causing it to wrap around his head like a shroud.