Valeria is out, sitting on her patio when Ric strolls down the zigzag lane to La Casa dei Sconosciuti. “I hope you did not mind, I gave permission for Salvatore to take your boat?”
“Not at all. Seeing as he stopped the Mara from sinking, I guess he’s entitled. But where did he get the keys, I can’t seem to find them.”
“You left them here with your things. I gave them to him.” She motions him to sit down. “I have your washing inside, not yet ironed of course.” Valeria sips her coffee, slowly, and then says, “Now, there is a man you must talk with. His name is Nino.”
“Old Nino? Tall, thin fellow, dark glasses?”
“Yes, you have seen him in Marina Corta? He is there most evenings.”
Ric nods, “Marcello pointed him out to me; told me he knows as much about the island as there is to know.”
Valeria smiles, “What Il Velaccino says is true. Nino knows much, but his memory is not constant. If you can talk to him on a good day, you might find out some information about your great-grandfather. And have you been to the cemetery above Marina Lunga? This would be another place to look; I am sure you will find more than one grave with the name Sciacchitano. Perhaps it would be worth your time to speak with Nino. We can go tomorrow. Nino speaks good English, but it will be better if I come with you. I can take you to Quattropani; it is where he lives, on the north-west of the island.”
“I don’t have a car,” Ric says. “I could rent a scooter in town, but I’m not sure you…”
“No, we will go by bus. It will not take long; the island is only thirty-five kilometres around. I will meet you in the Corso Emmanuelle before the sun is too high.”
“Thank you, Valeria; that is good of you.”
“Oh, don’t thank me, Ric. I have little to do here but see what Aeolus promises me in the way of weather. And besides, there is no guarantee that Nino will be enjoying one of his more lucid episodes.”