Free Bandits (1987) by Elmore Leonard

Familia.
    Don ' t you think she ' s nice now?
    Yes, but she ' s different. I think something is happening to her.
    When she called she said, Jack? It ' s Lucy. He waited and she said, Jack?
    How was dinner?
    I ' d like to tell you about it.
    Boiled shrimp and beer?
    I may never see my dad again. How ' s Amelita?
    She ' s okay. What happened?
    I really would like to talk to you. It was her voice, but it was different, strained; she was keeping it in control. If you could bring Amelita here. . . . I ' m at home, my mother ' s house, 101 Audubon, on the uptown side of the park.
    I know where it is. Are you alone?
    The housekeeper ' s here, Dolores. . . . If you could come as soon as you can. . . . But not in the hearse. Just in case . . .
    He said, No, I have a car. He waited a moment and said, for the first time, Lucy?
    What?
    We ' ll be right over.
    Chapter 6
    SHE BROUGHT HIM THROUGH a hall of dim portraits and framed pictures of Carnival balls, past sitting and dining rooms that were dark, formal, to a sun parlor that was startling, the atmosphere suddenly tropical as he looked at walls papered in a blaze of green-and-gold banana trees. Lamplight reflected on giant green fronds, on green-cushioned wicker, a ceiling fan, baskets of fern, a bar with bottles displayed against tinted glass. On the wicker coffee table was a glass of sherry. She was quiet, polite, wearing a white shirt now with tan slacks and sandals. She asked him if he ' d help himself to a drink, then asked if he was sure he wasn ' t hungry as he poured vodka over ice Dolores was fixing something for Amelita and it would be no trouble. He shook his head. She said Dolores had been to church. She said Dolores had been attending the African Baptist Church on Esplanade as long as she could remember. She said Dolores used to teach her hymns and it disturbed her mother to hear Protestant songs in the house. Jack took a sip of the drink and looked at her and said, You ' re not a sister anymore.
    She said, No, I ' m not.
    I called you Sister.
    Once or twice.
    You sound different.
    She seemed to smile.
    I mean since this afternoon.
    She was looking at his drink and said, Let me try that. He handed her the glass. She took a sip of the vodka and looked at him with that round lower lip pouting as she swallowed, then shook her head. I still don ' t like it.
    You ' re trying different things again?
    She said, The day I got back to New Orleans I called my mother for the name of a hairdresser. I ' d made up my mind, after thinking about it for at least a year, I was going to get a perm. Curl my hair and change my image. I felt I needed to pick myself up. So I made the appointment. . . . It wasn ' t until I was in the chair, looking at myself in the mirror, I realized that a perm wasn ' t going to do it.
    Do what?
    I mean it wasn ' t necessary. I ' d already changed. You said I sound different. I am, I ' m not the same person I was a year ago or this afternoon, or the same person right now that I ' m going to be.
    She was close enough to touch; not as tall as earlier today, in the heels. He said, I think you made the right decision. That ' s the way your hair should be, natural. He thought a moment and said, The day I got home from Angola, the first thing I was gonna do was get dressed up and head for the bar at the Roosevelt, like I ' d never been away. But I didn ' t. My parole came up the same time as a friend of mine, guy named Roy Hicks. Jack felt himself start to smile. Roy had a way of looking at you, with this cold stare, not putting much into it at all, but it was like he was asking if you wanted to die. He wasn ' t that big, either.
    Lucy had started to smile because he did, but now the smile left her eyes. I thought you said you were friends.
    We were. Roy taught me how to jail. No, he didn ' t give me the look, it was for guys who came onto him or got out of line. . . . You know what I ' m talking about?
    I think so.
    He started to smile again, knowing what he was