“I heard that Dirk Aston was murdered, shot, in Oakland. That he was involved in some sort of turf war? Is that true? Or just more gossip?”
“Maybe he was. And maybe he wasn't. Like Jeb says, Aston could have been just a victim of circumstances. Nothing to prove it either way. The way I hear it, drive-by shootings happen all the time—especially in that area of Oakland where he was found. Could have been that Dirk was in the wrong place at the wrong time. That's my take on it and the take of just about anyone with any brains. And as for the gossip about you growing marijuana up here…” He shook his head. “That's just plain foolishness. And anyone who knows you, knows it.”
“Thanks, Acey. I needed to hear that.''
Especially,
she thought to herself,
after Jeb's visit. El Jerko himself.
He nodded, his eyes kind and shrewd beneath the wide brim of his hat. “Figured as much. Those fellows with chicken feathers for brains talk too much and half the time don't even know what they're talking about. Don't pay 'em any mind.”
He glanced around. “So what
are
you going to do up here?”
She grinned. “Haven't a clue. Ain't it grand?”