Jessica Fletcher, about to solve Cabot Cove's latest mystery, suddenly grows woozy and slides out of the overstuffed armchair to her knees. Her empty tea cup falls to the floor.
"That's right," the murderous minister gloats. "That wasn't Irish tea…it was Sleepytime!"
"That's right," the murderous minister gloats. "That wasn't Irish tea…it was Sleepytime!"