Jake was dying. His wife, Becky, was maintaining a candle-light vigil by his side. She held his fragile hand, tears running down her face. Her praying roused him from his slumber. He looked up and his pale lips began to move slightly. "My darling Becky," he whispered. "Hush, my love," she said. "Rest, don't talk." He was insistent. "Becky, I, I have something I must confess to you." "There's nothing to confess," replied the weeping Becky. "Everything's all right, go to sleep." "No, no. I must die in peace, Becky, I slept with your sister, your best friend, her best friend and our next door neighbor! "I know, Becky whispered softly, "That's why I poisoned you."