Kathleen Murphy was standing vigil over her husband's death bed. As she held his hand, her warm tears ran silently down her face, splashed onto his face, and roused him from his slumber. He looked up and his pale lips began
to move slightly.
"My darling Kathleen, " he whispered.
"Hush, my love," she said. "Go back to sleep. Shhh, don't talk." But he was insistent.
"Kathleen," he said in his tired voice. "I have to talk. I have something I must confess to you."
"There's nothing to confess," replied the weeping Kathleen. "It's all right. Everything's all right, go to sleep now."
"No, no. I must die in peace, Kathleen. I slept with your sister, your best friend, and your mother."
Kathleen mustered a pained smile and stroked his hand.
"Hush now Patrick, don't torment yourself. I know all about it," she said. "Why do you think I poisoned you?"