Tara rode quietly in the cab. Mal didn't look like he was up to talking. He did indeed look like shit. At the guesthouse, she made sure he was able to make it up the stairs to his room. She unlocked the door and turned down the bed.<br/><br/>"I'll bring up some wine and cheese, I know there is plenty of that in the kitchen. If you need something else, you can let me know when I get back." Tara instructed, pointing at the bed.<br/><br/>She hurried down the stairs to the kitchen. While in there, she pulled the outside door shut and then put her ear to the door of the 'special room'. Nothing. No sound. She put her hand on the door knob but pulled it back. If Mick's business wasn't finished he would frown on interference. She wasn't fond of the idea of floating in the Mississippi with concrete shoes.<br/><br/>Taking some ice cold wine and cheese cubes to Mal's room, Tara entered and set the tray on the bedside table. He seemed to be sleeping. Tiptoe ing out, Tara shut the green hurricane shutters that covered the doors.<br/><br/>Down in the lobby, Tara gathered up the paperwork for the day and began to enter it on the computer. Bronwyn came in.