Leonard hits the target yet again

Mr Paradise by Elmore leonard (Viking, (pounds) 16.99) With 37 novels already in the bag, Elmore Leonard is the veteran's veteran. As fast as he writes them, Hollywood films them. Jackie Brown, Out Of Sight and Get Shorty were all Leonard novels and there are three more upcoming: Tishomingo Blues, Be Cool and The Big Bounce. Mr Paradise will be no different, and in a wry swipe at his own filmability, the author even mentions Samuel L Jackson at one point.

Leonard doesn't really do heroes, his repertoire consisting of individuals who treat morality and the law as separate entities. A typical Leonard protagonist knows right from wrong but still has a couple of dope busts in the background. His villains, meanwhile, mask their meanness with street-smart likeability and, as with Montez Taylor, fine duds.

Taylor is live-in gopher for retired criminal lawyer Anthony Paradiso, known as Mr Paradise by Chloe, the hooker he hires to dress as a cheerleader and stand by his TV as he watches taped University of Michigan football games. That's what's happening the night he and Chloe are shot dead by intruders.

Chloe had brought her friend, Kelly, a model, but she was upstairs with Montez at the time of the shooting. Did she see the killers? Was it a burglary gone wrong? And isn't it strange how much she looks like Chloe? But if she is Chloe, who's the dead girl in the ra-ra skirt?

Homicide cop Frank Delsa lands the case. As well as Taylor and Kelly/Chloe, he has to contend with Triple J, a wannabe gangster from the hood; Avern Cohn, a slippery downtown lawyer; Lloyd, Paradiso's wily old butler; and Art Krupa and Carl Fontana, two middle-aged hitmen in baseball caps.

The caps are in the colour of the Detroit Tigers because Mr Paradise marks a return to home turf for Leonard, who was born in New Orleans but has spent most of his working life in the Motor City. Much of his critical reputation rests on his ear for dialogue and the symphonies of words his characters speak, but even as he ranges across states and racial groups, Detroit remains his middle C. His rendering of the rhythms and rhymes of the place is flawless. Here - in the city of Eminem and The White Stripes - he is pitch-perfect.

The only criticism is that he can sometimes be as spare in his characterisation as he is in his dialogue. Mr Paradise contains a jumble of people, and too few are more than briefly sketched. Neither is the figure of Delsa entirely convincing: Leonard's main protagonists seem stuck in their late 30s, careworn Al Pacino types who mutate into George Clooney for the movie versions. Obviously a 79- year-old author can't write about a 79-year-old detective but Leonard could try upping the age of his leads just a little.

But perhaps he has. The 70-something Lloyd is an omnipresent figure - opening doors, cooking, ironing, cleaning but always watching and waiting. A former con, like Montez, he is no more deserving of benificence but in a cast of shady characters he's the only one who has determination. Leonard rewards him and cuts him loose, heading for Puerto Rico with bad "bidness" behind him and - who knows? - maybe another literary appearance ahead of him.

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