Cumbo raised then dropped his hands back on the table.
“How does someone from Lumberton, North Carolina, end up SOS?”
“I got dark good looks so I fit the part. Indian, you know.” Cumbo’s mouth and chin tucked sideways in an attempt at an ironic grin. It was repellent. “Crips heard the name Lapasa, figured I was Samoan. Being a cuz worked for me, so I rolled with it.”
Schoon cleared his throat.
Epstein listened, quiet but vigilant.
“Tell me about Francis Kealoha.”
“Who the fuck’s Francis Kealoha?”
“Perhaps you know him as Frankie Olopoto.”
Below the scar Cumbo’s Adam’s apple rose then fell.
“How about George Faalogo? That name ring a bell?”
Cumbo said nothing.
“Let’s talk about Nickie Lapasa.”
No response.
“Xander’s brother. Xander Lapasa. The poor chump you murdered. I’m sure you’re aware that Nickie Lapasa is a powerful man. A rich man. I’m sure you know the Lapasa family has financial interests that extend far beyond the state of Hawaii. Maybe even to California. You told us you looked Nickie up online. Was that a little fib, Reggie? Are you and Nickie acquainted through, shall we say, professional ties?”
Schoon came to life.
“We will not discuss Nicholas Lapasa’s personal or professional affairs at any time during this interview.”
“Is that why you sent Frankie and Logo out here?” I pressed on.
Cumbo’s eyes narrowed even further, but he said nothing.
I pulled another topic switch.
“I understand you’re under investigation for selling illegal drugs. You deal out of your bar, Reggie?”
Now it was Epstein’s turn to object. “You’re crossing a line, miss.”
“You looking to expand distribution?” I continued drilling Cumbo. “Is that why you sent Kealoha and Faalogo to Hawaii? They your front men for new projects?”
“Enough!” Epstein was on his feet.
“You screwed up, Reggie. You sent Frankie and Logo onto another man’s turf. Ever hear of L’il Bud T’eo? You sent them into T’eo’s house.”
“This is outrageous.” A flush was spreading upward from Epstein’s collar.
“You got them killed, Reggie.”
“What the fuck?” Cumbo’s lips parted, revealing a tongue that looked like a shriveled eel.
“The sharks didn’t leave much to ID.”
Cumbo’s mouth closed, made another oily loop.
“Your line of questioning is completely out of order.”
For the first time I looked at Epstein. I had to credit the guy. He was tenacious as crabgrass.
“For this interview to continue you must focus exclusively on circumstances surrounding Xander Lapasa’s death.”
“Fine. Let’s focus on Xander. Your client says he wants to come clean about the murder. Still he lies about his real identity.” I turned to Cumbo. “Why is that, Reggie?”
“I told you. I have regrets.”
“You’re seeking peace? Forgiveness? Or are you just looking to save your ass?”
Cumbo snorted in derision.
“You know what I think, Reggie? Maybe the cops are closing in on your little operation. Maybe you’re taking heat from SOS for getting Frankie and Logo killed. Maybe you found out T’eo’s put a price on your head. Whatever. I doubt you give a rat’s ass about clearing your conscience. I think you’re looking to boogie again.”
I was on a roll, making it up as I went along.
“I think you see the clock ticking on Al Lapasa. I think you’re hoping John Lowery is your new get-out-of-jail- free card. That’s your MO, right? Steal someone else’s name and disappear? Reggie Cumbo becomes Spider Lowery. Spider Lowery becomes Al Lapasa. Now it’s time to go back to being Lowery. To disappear.”
Cumbo thrust his head forward so his nose was inches from mine. I smelled his sweat, felt his rancid breath on my face.
Locking his eyes on mine, Cumbo curled, then exploded his fingers.
“Poof!”
