Curra, once John Gotti's personal bookie, was nowhere in sight. Using a passport bearing the name Dominico Curra, he was flying to San Jose, Costa Rica on American Airlines Flight 989. His lucrative Internet gambling operation is based there, and that's where he is today.

He had pleaded guilty Dec. 14 to taking part in a scam to sell phony Picassos and other bogus artwork and had been permitted to put off the start of a three year stretch until Jan. 3.

So, on Christmas eve, Donna, 44, brought in the holiday alone in their Lawrence, Long Island home. She would have plenty of company a few weeks later when she spent a night in the slammer after being charged with lying to FBI agents about her hubby's whereabouts.

The feds later returned her home with a gift: her very own electronic ankle bracelet to guard against her flying the coop and joining her 57-year-old husband in Central America.

Curra had interrupted his fraud trial to plead guilty after Brooklyn Federal   

Trager's ruling undercut the defense strategy of Curra's lawyer Joseph Corozzo – essentially that Curra was a bullshit artist who had fabricated his mob connections when boasting to a prosecution witnesses.

Donna told FBI agents that Dominick had been home on Jan. 2 and left in a huff without any luggage after they had an argument, according to an arrest warrant against her. With Dominick gone, federal prosecutors Andrew Weissmann and Katya Jestin, who Curra burned by fleeing, took it out on the wife he left behind.

She faces up to five years if convicted, but judges tend to give less time in cases like these. She was released under strict house arrest conditions after Dominick's brother Pasquale posted a $500,000 bond, secured by property. She also is liable for a $750,000 personal recognizance bond she signed when her husband was arrested 15 months ago.

Meanwhile, the feds are researching the U.S. extradition treaty with Costa Rica and exploring the feasibility of extraditing Curra, who emigrated from Italy to the United States more than 50 years ago but is still an Italian citizen.

The feds nabbed three Genovese associates Tuesday for the slaying of Sabatino (Tino) Lombardi, and charged two others with obstructing justice by lying to authorities about the Nov. 30, 1994 hit at the San Giuseppe Social Club in Williamsburg.

The arrests came as Durso, 32, prepares to testify at the racketeering trial of Colombo underboss John (Jackie) DeRoss (right) that begins next week. Durso's undercover work – he wore a wire for three years – has led to the arrests of scores of wiseguys since April.

Charged with murder – allegedly committed to improve their standing with the Genovese family – are Anthony Bruno, 30, John (Giancarlo) Imbrieco, 39, and Carmine (Carmine Pizza) Polito, 42.

Polito, a degenerate gambler, orchestrated the hit to avoid a $46,000 gambling debt to Lombardi and was eventually ordered by mob superiors to pay the money to Lombardi's family, according to court papers.

Angelo (Rookie) Cerasulo, 28, and Mario Fortunato, 54, were at the club when the shooting started, but not charged in the hit or murder attempt of Durso, according to prosecutors Daniel Dorsky, Paul Weinstein and Paul Schoeman.

According to an arrest complaint, Durso was playing cards with Lombardi, Polito and Fortunato when Bruno arrived and stood behind Durso with a gun he was handed by Imbrieco.

"Durso then felt a gunshot to the back of his head and heard other shots fired. Durso passed out. When he awoke, he saw Lombardi's murdered body on the floor and went to get help," the complaint said.  

Jackie DeRoss, as the old schoolyard saying goes, must have more balls than brains.

Despite an overwhelming case against him, advice from his lawyer, and an okay from his family boss, the grizzled 64-year-old gangster can't bring himself to cop a plea that would increase his chances to live out his final days at home, and not in prison. The rub is he would have to admit he was a made man.

"I'm not going to do it. I would if I could, but I'm not going to do it," he told his lawyer Paul LeMole in Brooklyn Federal Court the other day.

After a whispered, animated discussion with his attorney, reporters asked him about a 13-year deal that acting boss Alphonse Persico had taken to resolve his case. DeRoss, who has badmouthed Persico (left) for violating his Mafia oath by admitting membership in the Colombo family, sneered: "He got a good deal – if you like it."  

DeRoss may yet find a way to bite the bullet, and avoid the possibility of up to 40 years in prison, but as of this writing, his trial for racketeering, loansharking and money laundering is set to begin Tuesday before Judge Reena Raggi.