Bad Luck Read Online Free PDF

A prop in Sal’s act.
    â€œUnder Sal’s leadership the Mistretta family has been unusually quiet. Some sources say that his palooka act is a hindrance. People supposedly don’t like dealing with him through Joseph. According to other sources, though, that isn’t the problem at all, since those people he does deal with know that there’s nothing wrong with him mentally, and that Joseph is only there for show. Most sources do agree that although Sabatini Mistretta gave Immordino the position of acting boss, he put him on a very short leash.” Ivers looked over his glasses. “We know from past investigations that Mistretta does not like to delegate power.”
    Gibbons snorted a laugh. “That’s putting it nicely. Didn’t he break his wife’s arm once because she signed his name to a check to pay an overdue water bill when he was out of town?”
    Ivers peered over his glasses again. “I never heard about that. You mean he wouldn’t let his wife have her own checking account?”
    â€œAre you kidding? This guy’s from the old country. She’s lucky he let her in the house.”
    Ivers shook his head and closed the folder. “Well, be that as it may, whatever Sal Immordino and Russell Nashe discussed in their meeting, we can probably assume it was old business. Immordino doesn’t seem to be empowered to make any initiatives for the family.”
    Gibbons shrugged. “Who knows? Immordino’s no slouch. When he was running his own crew, before Mistretta was put away, it seemed like he was running everything over in Jersey City. I wouldn’t rule out anything with him. You want me to do some checking on his recent interests?” Please. Anything to get out of this office and back on the street. A few all-night plants would be so nice, give me a break from Lorraine and her curtain catalogs and her goddamn back issues of Bride magazine. Come on. Be a guy.
    â€œNo.”
    Shit. Asshole.
    â€œBert, I want you to go down to Atlantic City and check up on Tozzi. Get as close as you can without compromising his cover and find out if he’s okay.”
    â€œRight.” I take it back. You’re not an asshole. Not this time. “Anything else?”
    â€œJust get yourself there and in place by noon on Monday. If Tozzi has flipped, I want to know as soon as possible.”
    Gibbons was already up, backing toward the door. “Anything else?” Come on, come on, let’s go.
    â€œYes.” Ivers took off his glasses and set them down. “One more thing.”
    Now what?
    â€œI want you to give my best to Lorraine.”
    â€œYeah, sure. I will.” Gibbons reached for the doorknob, waiting for him to say something else, but instead Ivers swiveled to his computer and punched something up.
    Gibbons paused and stared at him. What does he mean,give his best to Lorraine? That’s my job. Who the hell wants your goddamn best? Asshole.
    Gibbons kept staring at Ivers as he opened the door and left.

nd this will be, without a doubt, the biggest fight in the history of professional boxing. The biggest purse, the biggest crowd, the biggest worldwide television audience . . .”
    Tozzi was bored. He pushed the sunglasses up his nose and stifled a yawn as he watched Russell Nashe’s back. Nashe was at the mike, blowing his own horn again. So what else was new?
    He snuck a glance at his watch. He’d been standing there behind the rostrum for the past half hour, a row of backs sitting at the long tables on each side, facing a restless mob of reporters and cameramen, lights shining in his face, trying his absolute best to tune Nashe out. Thank God for the back of Sydney Nashe’s head. It was much more interesting. Tozzi wondered how she got her hair that way, a long pageboy that just touched her shoulders and rested so nicely on her collarbone, not a hair out of place. And that white-blond color—it was hard not to