The Fall

Inspector Ifimus poked the mangled corpse that lay at the foot of the apartment block stairs.

'This is dead serious,' he noted. 'Get it? Dead serious.'

His assistant gulped.

'It was a joke, Jack. Stop being so grave. Ha! Grave. But I think I have worked it out.'

Jack's face brightened. 'You have?'

'Yes, it's quite simple. He tripped.'

'But he's got sixteen stab wounds, sir!'

The inspector nodded sagely. 'He must not have listened to his mother. Never run down stairs with a knife, Jack.'

'But, Inspector—'

'Stop mumbling! What is it?'

'He lived on the ground floor.'

'Oh.'