Jim was on his death bed. His wife Nancy, a redhead, was maintaining a vigil by his side. She held his fragile hand, tears ran down her face. Her praying roused him from his slumber. He looked up and his pale lips began to move slightly.

"My darling Nancy," he whispered.


"Hush, my love," she said. "Rest. Shhh. Don't talk."


He was insistent. "Nancy," he said in his tired voice. "I have something I must confess to you."


"There's nothing to confess," replied the weeping Nancy. "Everything's all right, go to sleep."


"No, no. I must die in peace, Nancy. I slept with your sister, your best friend and your mother."


"I know," she replied. "That's why I poisoned you."