4 Cupids Curse by Kathi Daley Page A

he mentioned he was looking forward to enjoying the type of food he’d eaten when he was growing up.”
    “Did he happen to tell you where he lived before this?”
    Jeremy thought about it. “Not specifically , but he talked about Piazza’s Pizza all the time.”
    “Piazza’s Pizza?” I’d never heard of the place.
    “It’s a small, family-owned pizza place in the Bronx. I only know about it because I have a cousin who lives in New York and he’s always saying that Piazza’s has the best pizza he’s ever tasted. One day Trent mentioned it in passing, and I told him that I’d heard of the place, and he went into a lengthy discussion about the thickness of the sauce, the crispness of the crust, and the five cheeses that are used to make that epicurean delight. My guess is that Trent either lived in the area or spent a significant amount of time there at some point.”
    “Anything else you can think of?” I asked as Ellie brought our food.
    Jeremy took a bite of his sandwich. He chewed loudly as he considered my question. I handed him a napkin to wipe the mayo off his chin. Although Jeremy is only a few years younger than me, there were times when I felt like he was the child and I was the adult.
    “Trent mentioned his grandmother on more than one occasion,” Jeremy said, once he’d swallowed. “He never said so directly, but I got the idea that he and his sister were raised in a family with minimal parental influence other than the times they visited their grandparents, who lived some distance away.”
    “Sister?”
    “Yeah. He never mentioned her name, but he said things like we’d really look forward to those summer visits. One day I asked about siblings, and he said he had an older sister.”
    “I suppose I should mention this to Salinger. I’m sure he’s looking for next of kin to notify.”
     
    After lunch , I decided to call on Old Man Johnson. The drive to his cabin took only minutes. By the time I arrived, I wished I had Charlie with me as an ice breaker. At least the five dogs that greeted me as I pulled into the drive remembered me. I got down from my truck and said hello to Johnson’s pack before treading carefully over the icy walkway to the front door.
    “Mr. Johnson,” I called as I knock ed loudly. “It’s Zoe Donovan.” Old Man Johnson was deaf in one ear, so I hoped he’d heard me. It was cold and windy, and I didn’t relish standing outside on the stoop longer than I had to.
    “Mr. Johnson .” I knocked again.
    “Hang on a minute.” I heard something crash, followed by a scuffle, and , eventually, footsteps heading toward the door.
    I smiled when the man opened the door dressed in nothing but bright red long johns. “Did I wake you?”
    “Humph,” he groaned. “What can I do for you?”
    “I wanted to ask about Trent Everett , if you have a minute.”
    “Yeah, okay,” he said, opening the door wider, “come on in.”
    The cabin was cozy , well kept, and surprisingly warm.
    “Have a seat .” Johnson pointed toward the worn but comfortable-looking sofa. “I’ll just get some pants on and join you.”
    I looked around the room while I waited. Johnson had an entire wall plastered with photographs of the area taken long before I was born . It was interesting to see empty lots where buildings now stood, and old structures that had been torn down to make way for new ones. Johnson had a photo of Donovan’s, the store my dad now owned and my pappy had built, before the addition. The photos Johnson had should really be on public display. Perhaps I’d have someone approach him about the idea. At another time. Today, Trent Everett was the main topic on my mind.
    “So you wanted to talk?” Johnson asked when he returned to the room wearing worn jeans over his long johns.
    “I heard that Trent helped you out with some insulation , and by the nice and toasty feel of the place, I assume he completed the job.”
    “Yeah, so?”
    “I’m trying to figure out who might