Word: bulleting
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...game wide open. After 15 minutes of the fourth period with the game deadlocked and both teams tiring, a Dartmouth violation deep in its own territory set up the free kick. McCall got ready, seemed to look around for a place to pass, and then suddenly fired a bullet shot over the heads of his teammates and past goalie Dick Ellington, who lunged for the ball in vain...
...minutes of your time?" Recognizing Laborer Galvino Lepori, 53, De Virgilio replied in annoyance: "I have nothing to say that you don't know already." At that, Lepori pulled a tiny Beretta 6.35-mm. pistol from the right pocket of his jacket and fired six times. Only one bullet missed, and De Virgilio died on the way to the hospital...
...shocks for Monsignor Meredith. The Nerone case is a web only sinful men could spin. There is Aldo Meyer, a Jewish doctor and humanist who plays a reluctant Judas to Nerone. There is Nerone's mistress who bore his bastard son and who nightly kneels before his bloody, bullet-torn shirt. The boy, now a troubled adolescent, is himself the prey in a vicious, sensual tug of war between a neurotic drug-taking contessa and a homosexual English painter. Without Author West's innate good taste, these characters might be merely sordid and sensational; he keeps them...
...that the Tammany Hall wigwams were plentifully supplied with needled beer and hijacked hooch). But there were nasty rumors that Augie was a finger man. In 1957, he and Frank Costello had a couple of friendly drinks together at the Waldorf just eleven hours before a bullet parted Costello's thinning hair and almost put him permanently out of circulation. Five months later, Albert Anastasia was shot down in a barber's chair-just a few days after dining with Pisano...
...Drake home in Queens to look at boxing matches on TV. They never got there. Forty-five minutes after leaving Manhattan, Augie's black Cadillac was found on a quiet street in Queens, its motor still running. Jan Drake was slumped against the car window, one bullet hole in her temple, a second in her neck. The diminutive mobster lay dead with his head on her lap, one chubby hand still clutching the wheel and the blood from three head wounds slowly staining his natty blue silk suit...