Jake was on his deathbed. His wife, Becky, 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 Becky," he whispered.
"Hush, my love," she said. "Rest. Shhh.... don't talk."
He was insistent. "Becky," he said in his tired voice. "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, and your mother."
"I know," answered Becky, "that's why I poisoned you."