I decide to convince the detective there exists an incestuous, jealous, aristocratic motive for murder.

I learn all about the will-she, won't-she between my sister and our new maid.

But if anyone's going to sleep with my sister, it's going to be me. So, I take my sister's undergarments, planting them in my own room.

I stab my sister with my fencing sword, consummating our mutual bloodlust in the most phallic way imaginable.

I am convicted of murder with absolutely no comment regarding my sister's panties in my room. Should I have planted her bawdy love poems in my room too? Hmm. I reflect on this in prison.