Frankly Speaking - A Frank Rozzani Detective Novel (#1) Read online

Jacksonville has many barbecue restaurants, both chains and small independent joints. Frank's favorite was Mona's, a tiny shack near his trailer. He stopped in and ordered three barbecue beef sandwiches with a side of Mona's signature cheese tater tots. He put the brown bag on the driver's seat and made the short drive to Nancy Rafferty's Veterinary Clinic. Nancy had a small house behind the clinic and, since it was now after hours, he decided to drive around the back to the house. When he pulled in, Nancy was sitting on the front porch on a comfy looking chair with a familiar looking black dog by her side on a dog bed. At the sight of Frank, Lucy's ears perked up and her heavily sedated tail wagged slowly.

  "She looks a bit too comfortable here with you," Frank said as he walked to the porch.

  "The sedative helps her look comfortable, but we have engaged in some bonding. She's a great girl."

  "Takes one to know one," Frank said clumsily, regretting what he said as soon as it came out.

  "I brought dinner," he said, trying to recover.

  "Well, it's not the new seafood place, but it smells like BBQ from Mona's which is good any day. Guess I'll have to settle for what I can get."

  Frank settled into the chair next to Nancy with Lucy in between them. As he dug through the bag to distribute the food, Nancy poured him a large glass of sweet tea. Calling iced tea in the south "sweet tea" is an understatement. Sugar was added to this tea to the saturation point. Frank unwrapped a sandwich for Lucy and set it down in front of her. She sniffed it, then explored it with her tongue and finally began eating it with her tail wagging in rhythm with her chewing. Frank handed Nancy her sandwich and relaxed in the chair with a heavy sigh.

  "Tough couple of days, Mr. Detective?"

  "Just full of surprises."

  He filled Nancy in on some of the general details of the recent events of the case. She was a good listener. "Frank, I'm not sure how you do it. You get involved in the lives of your clients and help them clean up their messes while you have the police and others trying to sabotage your efforts."

  "It does make life interesting, but sometimes working on the problems of others helps you put your own issues aside," he said, not sure why he was revealing this much of himself.

  "Frank, I know you're carrying some sort of burden from your life up north. You know I'm here for you when you're ready to talk about it."

  Frank exhaled, took a sip of his tea and said, "I think I'm ready to talk about it with you. You deserve an explanation for my behavior toward you."

  Nancy sat back and Frank began to tell her part of his painful story.

  --------

  Frank told Nancy about his roots in Syracuse, NY as a second generation Italian American. He grew up in the mostly Italian north side of the city in a 100 year old two family house with his parents, brother, and grandmother on his mom's side.

  "My grandmother was mother to nine children. My mom was the youngest."

  "Nine children! You must have had a huge family.”

  "I had dozens of cousins and second cousins. In my family every holiday and family event revolved around food. If there was a birth, a death, a marriage, a graduation, a christening, or a confirmation, there was food. If you were happy, have some food to celebrate. If you were sad, food could cheer you up. My grandmother was a magician in the kitchen. Everything she made was organic before anyone knew what organic was. Learning to cook was mandatory for me.”

  "It's amazing that you're not overweight from all the food."

  "I played a lot of sports and then later kept in shape so I could enter the police academy when I was old enough.”

  "What made you want to become a cop?"

  "My father was a cop. He had great instincts and was pretty well regarded in the force. Being an Italian cop in the late 70's was interesting for him, though.”

  "Interesting in what way?"

  "There were a lot of Italian stereotypes because of movies like The Godfather. My dad was a clean cop. He wasn't tied to the mob or on the take.”

  "Wasn't your brother a cop also?"

  "My brother Michael and two of my dad's brothers. It made for interesting family gatherings.”

  "Why is that?"

  "Let's just say my mother's side of the family was a bit more colorful. Dad's family was originally from the Northern, blue-eyed, blond-haired part of Italy"

  "That explains your baby blue eyes"

  Frank felt the warmth rise in his cheeks as he continued.

  "Mom's mother's family is Sicilian. This difference was a big deal when the families came together for my parents' wedding in the 60's. The Rozzanis looked down on the Scarpinos. For every Rozzani that was a police officer, business owner, or priest there was a Scarpino that drove a big black car and lived in places like Rochester, Buffalo, and Utica. I remember that my Uncle Louis in Rochester always seemed to have a big wad of money in his pocket when we had family parties at his nightclub, but he never seemed to actually work. He had a huge house that was part of a compound where a bunch of his kids lived.”

  "So how did the families get along?"

  "It was difficult for both sides. My father took a lot of heat because of Mom's family. People just assumed he had mob ties."

  "So you and your brother followed in his footsteps?"

  "Yes and no. Michael was five years older. He got into the police academy and started as a rookie cop when I was a sophomore in high school."

  Frank told Nancy about his two life changing experiences in high school. The first was around music and his love for the piano. Like many Italian boys, Frank had taken accordion lessons. He was drawn, however, to the baby grand piano in his grandmother's living room and began to transfer what he had learned on the accordion to the piano. He listened to his grandmother's recordings of Frank Sinatra, Tony Bennett, Perry Como, and Dean Martin, and was drawn to the chord progressions of the standards that they sang. These songs were written in the 1930's - 1960's by such masters as Gershwin, Porter and Van Heusen. This music spoke to Frank and he quickly learned to play the songs by ear.

  This love for standards was private to Frank until he entered high school. He was walking the halls one day when he heard the music he loved coming from a piano in one of the practice rooms in the music section of the high school. He looked through the glass of the practice room door and saw a stocky man making incredible music come from an old studio piano. Frank immediately noticed the conflicting image of the squat looking man with fingers, that looked like over-stuffed sausages, flying across the keys with the sound of "Here's that Rainy Day" coming out with chord progressions that he had never heard before, but wanted to hear more.

  "That's where I met Tommy O'Neill. He was a teacher at the school and kind of took me under his wing and taught me all of the tricks I know on the piano."

  "Well he certainly taught you well. You know your way around the piano.”

  "It's been therapeutic for me especially in the past six years or so.”

  Frank was suddenly quiet.

  "Frank, you don't have to go through this if you're not ready. I don't want to make you uncomfortable.”

  "No. I need to do this. Not just for me, but in fairness to you."

  Frank and Nancy had dated a few times as they bonded over their mutual admiration for Lucy. During their dates, Frank felt a mixture of happiness and guilt as they began to become closer. Eventually, the guilt won out and Frank stopped calling Nancy without much of an explanation. He stayed quiet for a while before continuing.

  “I had a wife and kids in Syracuse”, Frank admitted in a tone of voice so quiet, it was almost a whisper.

  “I figured something like that, Frank. That’s why I thought you wanted to move slowly when we were, you know, dating. I guessed that you were still in love with someone that you needed to get over.”

  “That’s not quite it. Something bad happened in Syracuse involving my wife and kids. It was a bad situation and I had to leave because of it.”

  “Did
she cheat on you?”

  “No. She ended up dead because of a case I was working on. It involved some pretty sleazy characters and I had to leave my kids to keep them out of danger.”

  “Frank, that’s awful. I had no idea.”

  “It’s not something I talk a lot about. Those people could still be looking for me. It makes me nervous about getting close to anyone. Plus the memories of what happened…”

  Frank was silent.

  Nancy held on to his hand and then broke the silence.

  Frank finished telling his story to Nancy. He could feel the moistness in his eyes and the tightness in his chest. When he looked up at her, her eyes were moist as well.

  "Frank, I can't imagine the pain you have gone through. I am so sorry if I pressured you."

  "It felt good to be able to trust someone enough to share it. I appreciate you listening."

  "You are a good man, Frank; better than most. I will always be here for you."

  Frank felt a warm wetness on his right hand and looked down to see Lucy meeting his gaze and licking his hand. Frank patted her head and finished his tea in silence.

  CHAPTER TEN