The Copper Frame by Ellery Queen

Anthony Spijak. The man was listed as living on North Street just off Delaware—which was a section of big, expensive homes. Five minutes later he parked in front of a large brick house, followed a winding, freshly shoveled walk to its wide porch, and rang the doorbell.
    A dark, good-looking woman of Saxon’s age answered the door. She looked at him in surprise. “Why, Ted Saxon!” she exclaimed. “We were just talking about you!” Then her face slowly colored with embarrassment.
    â€œYou saw the morning paper, huh?” he said dryly. “Tony home, Marie?”
    â€œSure. He never leaves until about eleven. Come on in.”
    Pausing to kick off his overshoes and leave them on the porch, he stepped into a small entry hall off a wide front room which, he could see, was expensively furnished in modern American. Marie Spijak took his coat and hat and hung them in a guest closet, then led the way into the front room.
    â€œTony!” she called.
    A tall, darkly handsome man with black curly hair appeared from the rear of the house. Shirt sleeves rolled to his biceps exposed muscular forearms covered with fine, curling black hair. He too was about Saxon’s age.
    The man grinned broadly when he saw Saxon. Advancing with hand outstretched, he said, “How are you, Ted, old buddy? I ain’t seen you since your old man ran me out of Iroquois.”
    Clasping the hand, Saxon said with an answering grin, “You have to admit you deserved it, Tony.”
    â€œI guess trying to run a wide-open handbook in a place like Iroquois was asking for it,” Spijak admitted. “Incidentally, I was sorry to read about your dad. He was a great guy, even if he did roust me out of my home town.”
    â€œHe certainly lasted in the job a lot longer than I did.”
    â€œWe’ve just been reading about that. Sit down; Ted. Like a drink?”
    Saxon shook his head. “Too early for me.”
    â€œI have beer for breakfast. Keeps me in shape.” Seating himself in a chair opposite Saxon’s, Tony Spijak said to his wife, “How about a beer for me, hon?”
    Marie disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.
    Glancing around at the expensive furnishings, Saxon said, “You seem to be doing pretty well, Tony. The bookie business must pay well. I assume you’re still in it, aren’t you?”
    Spijak cocked an eyebrow. “You asking as a cop or as an old buddy?”
    â€œI’m not a cop any more. You read the paper. I wouldn’t have any jurisdiction here, anyway.”
    Spijak grinned. “You sure made the front page. What the hell got into you, anyway? Were you drunk?”
    â€œIt was a frame,” Saxon said.
    Marie returned with a glass and an opened can of beer in time to hear the last remark. Handing them to her husband, she said, “I told you there was some mistake, Tony. I knew Ted wouldn’t do a thing like that.”
    Spijak poured beer into the glass and set the can on the floor. “Marie used to have a crush on you in high school,” he said amiably. “I don’t think she ever quite got over it.”
    â€œDon’t be silly,” Marie said, blushing.
    â€œRemember the time your old man caught us skipping school?”
    â€œI can still feel in it the seat of my pants,” Saxon said with a rueful smile.
    â€œHe was a great old guy. If he was alive now, he’d probably give it to you across the seat of the pants again for this deal. How do you mean, it was a frame?”
    â€œYou know Larry Cutter?”
    Spijak paused with his beer glass suspended halfway to his lips. “I know who he is,” he said cautiously.
    â€œHe’s looking for a place to land, and I think he’s picked Iroquois. He couldn’t swing it with Dad in as chief, so I think he had him killed. He couldn’t swing it with me in as chief, either. Now they have a good, honest, dumb cop in office who wouldn’t