And Here I Was Thinking That The Word “Reputed” Was Falling Out Of Favor . . .

There’s the Dickensian representation of the mafia currently commanding our attention and then there’s the real mob. And as the Sopranos series finale approaches, the real mafia wants you to know that they still exist:

The reputed mobster was found face up in his white striped pajamas, his mouth agape, half hanging off his bed in his Brooklyn home. He had been shot once near his ear, in the back of his head, and late last night investigators were still searching for a motive.

The death of the man, Rudolph Izzi — who the authorities said had been a soldier with the Genovese crime family — was the second mob-related shooting in the borough in three days, and had detectives investigating whether the two attacks were related.

On Tuesday morning, Robert DeCicco, whose father is a captain with the Gambino crime family, was shot in his arm and leg, and another bullet grazed his head, while he was sitting in his parked car less than a mile and a half from Mr. Izzi’s home on Shore Parkway. Mr. DeCicco, who was indicted along with his father and 11 others on federal racketeering and extortion charges in January, survived the attack.

Investigators are still trying to determine whether there was any connection between the shooting of Mr. Izzi, a loan shark, and Mr. DeCicco, 56, who lives on Staten Island and was said to have amassed heavy gambling debts. But both came from powerful crime families and have colorful histories of their own. There have been no arrests in either case.

According to the police, Mr. Izzi’s body was discovered after a friend of his, a doctor, stopped by for a visit and noticed signs of forced entry around the home’s door. The friend, whose name was not released, called the police. (Another investigator said Mr. Izzi was gunned down after answering the door, though that version was not corroborated by the police.)

And when investigators first saw Mr. Izzi, 74, who was declared dead in his bed, they said he seemed like a “beat-up old man,” a far cry from the eccentric, crisply dressed wiseguy whose nickname was “the Cueball,” and whose tangles with the law dated back nearly 40 years.