HE MAY live thousands of miles away in Canada but Peter Robinson's heart firmly belongs in his native Yorkshire. The Castleford-born writer, who emigrated to Canada 20 years ago, always sets his compelling crime novels in God's own country.

Aftermath (Macmillan, £10), his twelfth adventure featuring the popular Detective Chief Inspector Alan Banks, is unusual in that it begins with the capture of a serial killer known as The Chameleon, who is believed to be responsible for the deaths of five teenage girls, three in West Yorkshire and two in North Yorkshire.

But the arrest of teacher Terry Payne is only the beginning of a shocking investigation for Banks and his team.

Robinson had the idea for Aftermath after reading an article about killers Paul Bernardo and Karla Homolka and the lingering affect the murders had on a small-town Canadian community where they operated, especially on girls of a similar age as the victims.

About the same time he watched a documentary on Fred and Rosemary West, which showed scene-of-crime officers digging up their garden, carrying boxes out of the house and dismantling 25 Cromwell Street in Gloucester.

"Being a crime writer, I have a naturally morbid imagination. I woke up one morning, looked out the window, and wondered what it would be like if the police were digging up the garden across the street," writes Robinson, on his website www.inspectorbanks.com

Aftermath is a dark, broody but compulsive read which, once started, is very difficult to put down.

Ed McBain has always been one step ahead of the game, but surely even he could not have foreseen the devastating terrorist atrocities on September 11. Or could he?

Written before the World Trade Centre attacks, money, Money, Money (Orion, £12.99) includes a scene in which Middle-Eastern terrorists bomb a fictitious concert hall, packed with American classical music-lovers.

On the eve of the destruction, one terrorist says to another: "They are very sure of themselves, these Americans."

"That will all change tomorrow night."

The terrorism line is, however, only part of McBain's clever plot.

The story centres around millions of dollars of counterfeit money and the trail of murder and greed it leaves in its wake.

Detectives from McBain's famous 87th Precinct become involved when ex-air force pilot Cassandra Riley's naked body is fed to the lions at the local zoo.

The unforgettable roly-poly detective Ollie Wendall Weeks, of the neighbouring 88th Precinct, is asked to help the investigation as one of Miss Riley's limbs ended up in his manor.

The team soon discovers a link between a small-time burglar named Wilbur Struthers, Mexican drug barons, a violent 'gangsta' named Wiggy the Lid, a book publishing company and, of course, the terrorists.

Great characters, great plot, great timing and great humour. McBain is at the top of his form.

Jonathan Kellerman's latest novel, Flesh And Blood (Headline, £12.99), sees the return of crime-busting psychologist Alex Delaware and gay detective Milo Sturgis.

Delinquent teenager Lauren Teague is brought to Alex Delaware's office by her parents, but despite Alex's skill and efforts, Lauren resists his help and walks out.

Years later, Alex encounters Lauren as a stripper at a stag party.

Soon after, her body is found dumped in an alley. She had been shot in the head.

Alex, who personally feels that he has let the girl down, decides to hunt her killer.

As he investigates his young patient's troubled past, Alex enters the shadowy world of psychological experimentation and the sex industry.

An absorbing read, with some unexpected twists and turns.

Lawrence Block just gets better and better. In Hope To Die (Orion, £16.99) he reunites us with public transport-loving private detective Matt Scudder.

Byrne and Susan Hollander are brutally murdered and their home ransacked. Two days later, police trace the killers to an apartment in Coney Island and both are dead. One apparently killed the other before turning the gun on himself, or that's how it seems.

To the police the case is closed, but reformed alcoholic Scudder smells a rat, and so does the Hollander's daughter, Kirsten.

The more he investigates, the more things don't add up and soon he is embroiled in a deadly game of cat and mouse with the real killer.

Block really knows how to turn on the style. His characters have great depth, the dialogue is superb and the dark humour is laugh-out-loud funny.

Updated: 11:04 Wednesday, January 23, 2002