A multiple murder on the estate of the super-rich Los Angeles Kaffey family is the premise for No. 18 in Faye Kellerman's series involving LAPD detective Lt. Peter Decker and his orthodox Jewish wife, Rina Lazarus.

This time around, Rina becomes unwillingly involved in her husband's case while serving on a jury at a trial unrelated to the murders.

I haven't read all 18, but "Blindman's Bluff" emerges formula-ridden, tired and trite. The police procedural elements are compelling, but the characters here are one-dimensional stereotypes, whether Jews, Hispanics, cops, gay couples, the blind or the pampered rich.

Kellerman treats each type sympathetically but fails to bring them to life.

As for the murders, Guy Kaffey -- CEO of the family business -- and his wife, Gillian, were the primary targets, although several hired guards and a female servant appear to have been collateral damage in the ambush. Guy's younger son, Gil, was wounded while his other sons, Grant and Mace, were in New York. It also turns out that Mace had recently been sued and chastised (but not fired or jailed) for embezzlement.

The Kaffey family situation boils down to two generations of brothers, whose feelings for each other may or may not be fraternal. "Brother plus brother didn't always total to brotherhood," is how the author puts it.

Brett Harriman, a handsome, blind and highly skilled interpreter at the trial in which Rina is a jury member, overhears two Hispanics speaking about the Kaffey murders, and asks Rina to observe the men and, if need be, identify them.

Decker is furious about possible danger to Rina but is forced to take Harriman seriously because he can differentiate not only voices but also the various Spanish accents.

What seems most to interest author Kellerman (the wife of mystery writer Jonathan Kellerman) is her unconventional hero-cop, particularly Decker's relationships with his family and staff and his methods of investigating a complex crime, including the way Judaism is brought to bear on individual moral values.

But there's no getting around the predictable plot, the too-nice cops, the uncompromisingly venal businessmen and unintentionally funny thugs, who belong in a comic book.

When Kellerman finally gets around to sorting out who did what and to whom, it hardly seems to matter.