Carl's wife fumed. Tonight, she would end Carl's affair. Her detective work revealed he was staying the weekend at Marty's lakeside cabin. Driving four hours over mountainous roads had exhausted the fitful wife. Finally, she glimpsed the cabin in the distance. As she reached the cabin's white pebbled driveway, she turned off the car's headlights and drove slowly. This would be her moment. She would sneak up on the lovers, surprise them, and take Carl home with her. But when she got out of her car, she immediately realized she had seriously miscalculated.

Marty stood at the corner of the cabin's raised deck, wearing only a loosely draped, veiled nightgown, and holding a single poppy flower. Dancing fireplace flame shadows and a melodious chant emanated from the open door behind her. The paramour was signaling defiance; taunting; giving no indication of contrition or intimidation! Au contraire, her provocative stance and dominance facial smile telegraphed shameless pride in her illicit behavior. Uncertainty struck. The wife paused and looked up. Her rival was stunningly beautiful.

Forces of light and darkness will contest for souls this night. And eternal spirits, who see everything we do, will witness a perfect murder.