THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Wednesday, May 24, 1995 TAG: 9505240050
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E3 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: BOOK REVIEW
SOURCE: BY TIM WARREN
LENGTH: Medium: 74 lines
ELMORE LEONARD has brought a lot to crime fiction: perhaps the best ear for dialogue in the business, a real feel for characters, a sense of locale and a sardonic, almost amused sensibility.
Thanks to him, we no longer see criminals merely as evil masterminds; they're more likely unwitting and clumsy, and usually are done in by their own ineptitude and greed. Bad guys, yes, but not necessarily smart ones.
But in the course of his prolific writing career - ``Riding the Rap'' (Delacorte, 304 pp., $21.95) is his 32nd novel - Leonard's flaws have also become apparent. He doesn't care much for plot. He's not particularly introspective nor given to ruminating on moral issues that could pop up in writing about crime. His later novels have tended to be entertaining but aimless, and this one is no different.
``Riding the Rap'' (prison talk for doing time) picks up where his previous novel, ``Pronto'' (1993), left off. Raylan Givens, the hard-as-nails U.S. marshal from Palm Beach County, Fla., returns, as does Harry Arno, the retired Miami Beach bookmaker whom Givens rescued from a mob hit. (It seems that Harry made the questionable decision to skim off part of the Mafia's take of his gambling income.) Also back is Joyce, the ex-stripper, a former girlfriend of Harry and current one of Givens, who worries about her ex and his considerable drinking problem.
They are joined in ``Riding the Rap'' by the usual Leonard group of screw-up bad guys. Chip Ganz, who owes Arno $16,500 in gambling debts, is a 50ish druggie who likes to get young runaway girls high and then, after gaining the appropriate family information, call their parents and promise to deliver them home - for a fee.
When Chip is muscled by Bobby Deo, a Puerto Rican ex-con doing dirty work for Harry, to repay his debt, he in turn persuades Bobby to come over to his side. He asks Bobby: How about you helping me kidnap Harry and steal some of his millions rumored to be stashed away? (They could also kidnap a few more rich guys and make a bundle.)
A third member of this unlikely crew is Louis Lewis, a Bahamian lowlife who was in a Florida prison at the same time as Bobby. If Bobby is a certified hard case, just as likely to kill a man as get a haircut, then Louis is a self-imagined sharpster, one who knows most of the angles and thinks he can figure out the rest. He's loosely allied with Chip, but when Bobby comes on board, Louis sidles up to him, saying the two can make their own arrangements and gradually cut Chip out.
As usual, Leonard's criminals are more interesting than the good guys. Bobby, Louis and Chip bicker, form alliances against one another, become paranoid and do stupid things. Leonard is adept at mixing black humor in his gritty narratives, such as when Bobby and Louis discuss taking care of Harry, their hostage. Chip, who also figures himself a sharp customer, insists they handle their hostage the way that terrorists handle theirs in the Middle East:
Chip said they'd feed their hostages cold rice and mutton, hard stale cheese. . . . Spill the food on purpose, the way the guards did over there, and make them eat it off the floor. He favored leaving overripe bananas in the room, out of their reach, the smell becoming worse each day.
Louis said, ``Worse for anybody has to go in there.'' He said, ``Where we gonna get mutton around here? The same place we get the straw mattresses? Spill the food - who cleans it up, me or you?''
This is Leonard at his best: quirky and ironic, and deadly funny. There are many such instances in ``Riding the Rap,'' but there's not a whole lot else. The plot meanders and pokes along, and we get the inevitable showdown between Givens, who is tracking down Harry after he disappears, and the trio of kidnappers. There are few surprises and not much energy in this book, which is becoming a distressing pattern with Elmore Leonard. MEMO: Tim Warren is a book critic who lives in Silver Spring, Md.
by CNB