Tara was intent on wading through the grass. She liked shortcuts but was not fond of snakes. When her feet slipped in the mud, she nearly squealed like a girl. Bronwyn kept clearing her throat but Tara finally made out her name. She came a stop but as she did, the wind gusted, filling her nostrils with the distinct smell of shit.<br/><br/>Tara held her sleeve  to her nose.<br/>"What?" she called back. "God, it stinks in here. The sewers in New Orleans are old and in disrepair. Do you smell that? "<br/><br/>Bronwyn drew up beside her and Tara took one more step when her foot rammed into a hard, unyielding surface surrounded by an ooze of mud.<br/><br/>"I think this must be an old septic ta... OH MY GOD!" Tara gasped. "It's a body. NOOO, its Mal. Bronwyn, I think he is dead."<br/><br/>Bronwyn pulled out her cell phone and readied to push the emergency numbers when Tara stopped her.<br/><br/>"It might be on of the Boss's hits. I can't be involved in the police."<br/><br/>"We will call and then move on. We won't wait for them. "Bronwyn said, dialing the phone. "Someone in authority needs to know about this."<br/><br/>Tara nodded her head and stared at his sightless eyes.<br/><br/>"I will miss you," she whispered.