“The cops found nothing linking Lapasa to the accident. The victim had no family screaming for justice, so who knows how thorough the investigation was.”
I made no comment.
“A hurricane blew the station off the map nine months after Lapasa took possession. Having no source of income and, apparently, no enduring love of petrol, Lapasa turned to selling real estate. And saw potential. Recognizing that a lot of baby-boomer parents would be needing a lot of cheap housing, Lapasa shifted into low-end home construction. He’d put up a bungalow, sell it, put up two more.
“When Hawaii gained statehood in nineteen fifty-nine, the building industry exploded. Lapasa leveraged everything, expanded, made millions. From the sixties to the nineties he diversified. Today the Lapasa empire has more tentacles than an anemone.”
“Sounds like old Alex was one smart cookie.”
“Yes.”
I noted a hitch in Danny’s breathing.
“What?” I asked.
“Lapasa was always, shall we say, controversial. Some said he had the Midas touch. Others said he was just lucky. All agreed he was ruthless as hell.”
“When did he die?”
“Two thousand two.”
“Who runs the business today?”
“Number two son, Nicholas.”
A big clapper went
“
“That Nickie Lapasa.”
I vaguely remembered Alex Lapasa’s passing from news coverage during one of my visits to the CIL. The funeral was a five-ring circus.
“Wasn’t Lapasa under investigation for RICO violations at the time of his death?” I referred to the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act passed by Congress in 1970.
“Yeah. And it wasn’t the first time. Rumor had it Alex had ties to the Mafia. Nothing ever stuck.”
I thought a moment.
“Isn’t Kenny Lapasa a member of the Honolulu City Council?”
“He is.”
Xander had vanished. Marvin had died. Nickie and Kenny were alive and thriving. I wondered about the sisters.
“Are Mamie and Hesta involved in the family business?”
Danny snorted. “Definitely not the Lapasa style.”
“Meaning?”
“No girls allowed.”
“Yet it was Theresa-Sophia who corresponded with the army concerning Xander’s disappearance.”
“The old man probably viewed letter writing as beneath him.”
“Why do you suppose Xander went to Nam?”
“There were rumors about Lapasa’s involvement in drug trafficking. Maybe he sent his kid to Southeast Asia to scout postwar possibilities. You know, drug sources, transport options.”
“Who did you talk to?” I asked.
“Tricky Nickie. It was like getting through to Obama.”
“How did he react?”
“At first he was skeptical. I told him that the dental ID, though unofficial, was solid, and asked if Xander had ever broken any bones. He said Xander busted his jaw and collarbone in a car wreck the summer after his junior year in high school. I described the healed fractures we’d spotted on the bones and X-rays.”
“Did that convince him?”
“Not totally. I said that, to reassure the family, a DNA comparison could be done if he or one of his siblings would provide a sample. The guy went ballistic, said no way was any government toady sticking a probe into any member of his family. I explained that the process was painless, just a cheek swab. He grew even more agitated, I’ll spare you the verbiage, finally hung up on me.”
“If some of Alex Lapasa’s business dealings were as shady as rumor has it, maybe Nickie’s worried about privacy issues. Felons tend to be protective of their DNA.”
“Maybe. But Nickie’s never been linked to anything illegal. Anyway, an hour later he rang back, irate, ranting about incompetence, stupidity, professional misconduct. He threatened to phone his congressman, his senator, the ACLU, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the president, CNN, Jesse Jackson, Rush Limbaugh, maybe even Nelson
