Leeson paced the floor. Cupid sat in the chair. Valosse had ice on her ankle and her foot propped up on a pillow. Frank, the taxi cab agent sat on the far end of the couch, between Cupid and Valosse - just in case a fight broke out.

"This is a disaster!" Leeson declared.

Frank nodded. "This is one bad romance... That lady's got more hair on her chin than on her head."

"Do we know who she is?" Valosse wondered. "Could we find her family and get them to pick her up?"

"Her name is Ethel Effington," Cupid swallowed. "I knew her in the 1970s."

Frank wanted to light a cigarette. "Let me guess - she bought you that suit."

"No. I bought it to date her. They don't let barefoot guys into restaurants."

"Or naked ones for that matter," Valosse winced, flexing her ankle. "Apparently you're more accident prone than I was aware."

Cupid shrugged. "That's why they call it falling in love."

Valosse rolled her eyes, then bent to examine her ankle. "I should know that."

Frank watched Valosse struggle and adjusted the pillow to try and help. "So, how do you know her?" he asked Cupid.

"Well - it was the 1960s, and I got involved with the hippie movement. It ended up being really bad for romance and I found myself homeless and on the street. It was Ethel who got me interested in life improvement. She used to feed the stray cats and occasionally if she saw me, a sandwich. Then her husband divorced her. I don't know what happened to her after that."

"Guess she ended up on the streets," Valosse mused. "What about family?"

"I don't know - you're the FBI," Cupid looked up. "Sir... Ma'am.... But I wouldn't recommend it. Mr. Slanetti might come after her."

Leeson stopped moving. "So we've got a crazed man, in love with a Good Samaritan from the 1970s, we can't get any intel, and we're running out of time. What do you suggest?"

Frank got up and stared out the window. "Hey - they're talking."

Ethel hit Slanetti with her battered purse. "Stop following me! I want to be left alone!"

"But I'm in love with you!" Slanetti pleaded.

"You men are all alike! I had a husband once - he threw me out too! Left me for some blonde bimbo! I hope she weighs five hundred pounds and he's got corroded arteries!"

"Please my darling! Tell me your name so that I may know who's face I gaze upon with such desire!"

"No!" She shuffled away.

"Please! I want nothing more than to care for you forever! Make a future with you!"

"If you want to make a future - then you better 'fess up, boy! Word on the street is that you're a contact for the mob!"

Slanetti leaned close. "I could find your ex-husband."

"I don't care about that baloney booger picker!" she shrilled, poking Slanetti in the chest.

A red cloud appeared. Cupid's love dust came off Slanetti's shirt.

"Help! Police!" Ethel screeched. "This man is stalking me! He's harassing me! He won't leave me alone!!!!!!!"

Frank shook his head. "That's our cue!"

Leeson pushed him aside. "I'll handle this. He hasn't seen me yet."

Cupid stood. "Uh, sir... Sir...!"

Leeson was already out the door and around the corner.

"What is it?" Frank asked.

"Did you see a red cloud of heart shaped dust rise off Mr. Slanetti's clothing, sir?" Cupid asked.

"Yes. Thought it was a little odd."

Cupid swallowed. "Well - that's Love Potion Number 9 - in powder form. Its sort of like gunshot residue, sir."

"Meaning what?"

"It gets in your lungs. Goes all over the place, sir. Makes you look at life through rose-colored glasses."

"That would ruin, Leeson!" Valosse declared.

Ethel was screaming for help, her arms and purse flailing about, as her old lady legs in battered orthopedic shoes stomped on Slanetti's feet.

Slanetti was pleading. "Look my dearest! I've done a lotta bad things. I'm gonna make it right, so's that we can be together! Like Princess and Prince Charming. Like Romeo and Juliet - without the in-laws! Like Bonnie and Clyde - without the death scene! Like mustard and ketchup! I'll even push your grocery cart up and down the street, do the dishes every night and build a homeless shelter. That's what we'll do! I'll take all the monies I've got from doing bad business and turn it into homeless shelters, and food banks, and things that'll help people. I won't ever do no crime again!"

Leeson came around the corner.

Slanetti sat on the curb, head in his hands. "I feel so bad, princeess. I killed some people. I killed a whole bunch a people. I even put 'em in cement so's they wouldn't be found. But I ain't gonna do that no more."

From inside Rocky's pizza the council of mob bosses stared out the window. "Is he confessing everything?"

"Looks like it."

"And there's a cop right there."

"Nah. I know that guy," the leader, Senior Slanetti muttered. "That's Agent Leeson of the FBI."

"Who's the old lady?"

"Must be that hot chick agent they got," one of the hitmen suggested. "Carmenson? Is that her name?"

O'Riley, the Irish mob boss, leaned closer. "Do we waste 'em?"

"Nah. I want the agents alive. And we'll leave our boy alive for now." Senior Slanetti turned to his hitmen. "Go get 'em."

Slanetti was still confessing on the street corner as Leeson waited. Ethel had her hand on Slanetti's shoulder, patting his arm like a little boy. She glanced at Leeson. "You're not going to take him away, are you?"

"Ma'am," Leeson stammered. "I have to. He's just confessed to eight of the city's unsolved murder cases in the past year!"

Ethel looked at Slanetti. "If you promise to behave, I'll bring you cookies in jail."

Slanetti burst into tears. "Oh! That's so wonderful!!!!"

Leeson glanced up at the clear blue sky and shook his head.

Suddenly four thugs burst from the pizza shop, clutching submachine guns. "Everybody inside! Now!" one ordered.

Leeson went for his gun.

"Drop it, agent!"

He obeyed, seeing the senior Slanetti darken the doorway.

"Bring 'em in," the mob boss orderd.

Frank leaned against the wall. "We've got to do something. They're going inside the restaurant."

"Do we call for backup?" Valosse asked.

"No. We can't risk that. One cop car and we lose Leeson, a little old lady and a star witness." Frank paused. "I've got no choice but to go in on my own."

"I'm coming with you!" Valosse stood up, then fell backward as her ankle gave out.

"No," Frank insisted, as he checked his weapon. "You're in no condition to attempt an assault on a hostile situation. Stay here and monitor the lines - we'll need someone to call in backup." He handed her the keys. "Can you get to the taxi?"

"Of course - but I'm not leaving you guys!" Valosse insisted.

"Sir? If I may -"

Frank was already planning. "I can get in through the backdoor of the kitchen and then - Then, I don't know...." He looked toward Valosse carelessly lounging on the couch, her ankle in the air. He took a breath. "Valosse, I think I love you... I'll be back..."

"In a body bag," she muttered. "And that's the red dress and helpless ankle which is making you say stupid crap like that." She sat up, glaring at Cupid. "Unless you shot him."

"Nope. Like I said. Love is like gunshot residue - it just kind of sticks and then goes everywhere."

Frank glanced at the sniper's rifle positioned in the window, then at Cupid. "You ever shoot a gun before?"

"No sir. Just bow and arrow." He stood. "But I'll cover the front."

In the back corner of the restaurant Ethel and Leeson were tied back to back, huddled in two chairs, hands cuffed. Leeson glanced back. "Are you all right?"

"I'm perfectly fine, young man!" she declared, shifting sideways. "I have so many layers on from being homeless that I'm already out of the ropes." She pulled her hand free and smiled. "Now, young man, where do you keep your spare handcuff key?"

"I - I -" Leeson was speechless. The red powder was getting all over him, in his eyes, on his clothes, he was inhaling it... and... and getting high.

"Never mind. I used to be a parole agent," Ethel smiled, bending over and reaching into the rolled section of her dirty nylons. "I just have to remember which leg I put it in and we'll be out in a jiffy, so we can rescue little Slanetti. You know I used to see him in juvie court all the time. I always knew he had a crush on me."

Leeson stared off into the darkness, blinking off the hearts, flowers and the sudden urge to burst into song.

Frank slipped through the back door and into the deserted kitchen. He could hear Ethel chatting merrily to someone, but couldn't tell who.

"Agent Arrow?" Frank whispered.

"Ready."

The mafia members stared as a man in a 1970s suit threw open the door to the pizza shop, bow and arrow in hand. "This is a stick up!" he cried in a small voice. "Sirs!"

They burst into laughter.

"Who are you, Robin Hood?" Slanetti senior sneered.

"No - its Valentine's Day -"

"Are we going to be massacred?" a hitman jeered.

"No. Just shot."

Cupid let loose with an arrow.

Red dust filled the room as the hitman slammed the floor.

Cupid fired again. Slanetti senior hit the floor.

Frank couldn't see through the thick dust as he scrambled for his gas mask. If there was a way to get through this without getting lovesick - a gas mask would be best.

Cupid was releasing arrows left and right at the thugs as they all hit the floor overcome with Love Potion Number Nine. Bad singing and boo-hooing broke out, as fists and hearts swung in the fight.

Suddenly through the red mist Frank saw Leeson and the bag lady. He grabbed Leeson. "C'mon!"

"But - But - its so wonderful!" Leeson gushed. "I'm going to burst into song!"

Frank punched him. "You'll ruin our escape!" He motioned to the bag lady. "C'mon Miss. Let's go."

"Oh... you're such a nice young man." She latched onto his arm, as Frank threw Leeson over his shoulder. "Shouldn't we get the other nice young man?"

"We don't have time!"

She smiled, still not moving.

Frank patted her hand and pulled her across the room like a boy scout in a hurry to earn his senior citizen helping badge. Dragging them through the kitchen, Frank kicked open the back door to the street.

A taxi pulled up. Valosse was behind the wheel. "I called in backup."

Frank lowered Leeson to the floor in the backseat of the car.

"Why is he unconscious?" Valosse cried.

"He wanted to start singing," Frank muttered. "Let me drive."

"No!" Valosse snapped. "I got this far on a bad ankle - I'm not moving!

"Children!" Ethel cried from the backseat. "To the police station!"

The taxi pulled up to the police station, as Leeman woke up singing. Valosse slammed the brakes and covered her ears. "That's horrible!"

"Why do you think I said to hurry?" Frank asked.

Two officers rushed out. "Is he drunk?"

"No. He's in love. And he can't sing," Frank explained.

"Well - he'll have to wait," the officer replied. "We just got all the mafia dons in a confessing mood. They're talking, crying, blubbering up a storm about all the crimes they've done. We don't know what to do."

"Who brought them in?" Valosse wondered.

"Some guy in a red seventies suit with hearts on his tie," the second officer reported.

Valosse and Frank looked at each other.

"Did he have a bow and arrow?" Frank asked.

"No. A sniper rifle."

Valosse glanced at Frank. "He's upgraded."

"Is this a threat?" the officer asked.

Valosse was about to speak.

"No," Frank covered. "Not at all. It just means that romance isn't dead. Its just stepped up its game." He turned to Valosse. "Want to go to dinner?"

"Don't tell me you're infected with this love nonsense stuff too," she muttered.

Frank kissed her.

A red dot laser sight in the shape of a heart appeared on the wall behind her.

"Sniper!" the officers cried, diving to the ground.

Frank tipped Valosse and the red heart dust bullet struck home and exploded into a poof of heart-shaped powder. As he pulled her back to her feet, he grinned. "See, I just saved your life. It isn't so bad, is it?"

Behind her back, he gave the sniper the thumbs up sign.

Cupid pulled back into the shadows - and accidentally shot himself in the toes.