Nicola Scarpati

Nicola Scarpati is 46 and purserpurser Officer on a passenger ship in charge of tickets, cargo papers, accounts and the passengers' needs. of the steamer Aretusa. Born in Pozzuoli, the son of an octopus fisherman, he shipped as a cabin boy at 15 and rose from cabin steward to waiter, from waiter to purser. Twenty years with the company, twelve on this steamer, and the camaraderie of someone who has seen every kind of passenger. He says he knows by heart who gets seasick, who drinks and who doesn't pay.

He lives with his wife and two daughters in a three-room apartment in the Santa Lucia district of Naples, with a balcony onto the gulf, hanging laundry, a prayer niche with an image of San Gennaro and a kitchen where there is always a sauce on the stove. His wife cooks, the girls study, and he listens to the port's horns without leaving his armchair. When he is ashore, he sleeps to the sound of the steamers' sirens.

He is stocky, with a broad tanned face, a trimmed black mustache and gray temples combed with brilliantine. He wears the navy purserpurser Officer on a passenger ship in charge of tickets, cargo papers, accounts and the passengers' needs.'s uniform, with gold buttons, and the cap with an embroidered anchor. In his hand, a bundle of tickets held with a rubber band. Affable, practical, he talks about passengers the way one talks about cargo, and always has a stamp at hand, in his pocket, for any occasion.

About the night of Saturday to Sunday, he says the sea was calm and nothing much happened. Except that at 3 a.m., off Capri, the lookout sailor saw a gentleman in a black overcoat throw a heavy package tied with string into the sea off the stern. It was the passenger from cabin 7, the professor from Palermo. About the quay, he recalls a young woman in a green coat, alone, who at 5:45 was arguing with the crew gate guard to get in. Nobody goes to the quay at 5, he states, without an appointment. When the detective demands where he sent the professor, he answers to Naples, as the ticket said, and asks to be spoken to properly.

It could be the frankness of a career seaman, who takes pride in never having lost a passenger. It could be the practicality of someone who learned that, aboard ship, the best answer is the one already prepared. The detective will have to decide which.