Death of a Rich Man (A Detective Jackson Thriller)

Chapter 1

Saturday, Nov. 15, 10:05 a.m.

 

Sophie Speranza hurried down the alley toward the growing crowd of protestors. Hundreds huddled in the cold around the big concrete federal building, and hundreds more stretched across Franklin Boulevard, where traffic was stopped—and occasionally honking. Another thousand or so gathered on the downtown side—one of the biggest local rallies she’d seen. And the loudest. People were chanting and shouting, and the speeches hadn’t even started. She pulled her notepad from her red shoulder bag and jotted down descriptive phrases. From teenagers to grandmothers. Bundled against the cold but fired up.

She loved covering live events but rarely had the opportunity. Eugene, Oregon was a midsized college town, and if you weren’t into sports—and she wasn’t—big public events were rare. Except for the rallies. Gen Z kids and liberal Boomers loved to protest social injustices. Most people in the middle were usually too busy working and parenting to get involved. But she’d already spotted mothers with kids and men in work clothes.

Today the crowd was shouting, “Corporate greed kills!” The slogan was also printed on signs people carried, along with Billionaires Shouldn’t Exist and Housing is a Human Right.

Sophie heard a buzzing sound and looked up. Good. The newspaper photographer was here somewhere taking drone photos from above. She tucked away her notepad, pulled her gloves back on, and started across the boulevard with a group of young people. They looked like teenagers, but were probably college students at the university a few blocks away. She’d celebrated her thirtieth birthday this year and recently everyone seemed younger, more vibrant, less cynical than her. Or any of her coworkers at the newspaper. Not that there were many left. She’d survived several rounds of layoffs, but was now competing with AI to keep her job.

More cars joined the honking frenzy, and she realized no police cars were present to physically block the street. Had the event coordinators failed to get a permit? Bad idea. Without such barricades, only human decency kept drivers from trying to push through the mass of people in their way.

On the other side of the road, Sophie pushed past a large woman with a small dog in her backpack, then said, “coming through” to a group of young men. They were shouting too loudly to hear her, so she forced her way through, smiling and saying, “I’m with the press.”

One guy grinned back, taking a long look and liking what he saw: petite body, cute freckles, and curly red hair.

She finally reached the portable barriers a few feet from the platform, which had been set up in front of the courthouse doors. The man on the podium looked her age, with shaggy light-brown hair and a gaunt face. His black hoodie was well worn and didn’t seem warm enough for the low-forties temperature. But Asa Woseick, the protest leader, was too passionate about his cause to care about the cold.

He stopped chanting into the megaphone and raised his free hand. “I need your attention!” A brief pause. “Thank you. And thank you for showing up today. You’re all part of a new movement to reclaim our rights!”

The crowd erupted into a roar of approval. Again, Woseick raised his hand and waited.

Sophie took the moment to set her phone to record, then pulled out her notepad. Writing things down made them stick in her brain. With all the background noise, her recording would likely be crap anyway.

“Showing up isn’t enough,” Woseick bellowed into the megaphone. “I need you all to take the next step with me. It’s scary, but if we all do it together, we’re too powerful to ignore or shut down!”

Sophie tensed. What was he talking about?

“The first of the month is coming again, and for thousands of us here in Eugene, rent is due.”

Scattered shouts of “Boo!” bounced around the group.

“Most of that money goes to one or two companies. The biggest corporation, JADE Properties, is majority owned by one man, Jakub Dracos.”

Someone in the front shouted, “Fuck him!”

Woseick continued. “Since JADE started buying up apartments and single-family houses, the average rent has increased forty percent!”

More booing, and shouts of “greedy asshole!”

“Guess what?” Woseick asked with a grin. “We’re not going to pay it!

The crowd went wild. High-pitched whistles. Low-throated shouts of “Yes!” Clapping and stomping.

Oh boy. This guy was serious.

Woseick waited it out. “We’re not going to pay rent again until Dracos rolls back the last two rate increases. That’s the only way to get his attention. Cut off the money flow!”

Sustained clapping now. Sophie wondered how many people would have the courage to participate. JADE Properties owned her apartment building on the river, and she wanted to support this movement. But she was a journalist and had to stay out of it.

“Get your neighbors, your family, your friends to join us. No equity, no rent!” Woseick shouted. “Today, we launch the Renters’ Rebellion!”

The thunderous response hurt her ears, and she turned back toward the boulevard. She wanted to interview some attendees, but she needed to reach the crowd on the other side where it was quieter. Getting through the throng was harder this time. The protestors were too worked up to notice her or move out of her way. She made it to the outer edge on the Ferry Street Bridge side, then turned, visually taking note of the attendees, which she could see face-to-face this time. More thirty-something men than she would have expected. More well-dressed office women too. She wanted to talk to everyone, but the noise and intensity this close to the speakers’ platform wouldn’t allow it.

She finally reached the street. The crowd continued across it, but here, many were just clapping rather than chanting. The gathering extended several blocks beyond the boulevard, and she couldn’t wait to see the aerial photos. Most of the honking had subsided, and a few police officers stood near the alley where she’d parked.

Suddenly, a loud engine roared. She looked toward the bridge where traffic was backed up. A huge black truck near the base was spewing dark smoke and inching forward. The smaller car in front of it, with protestors inches away, refused to budge. Sophie hurried toward the vehicles, pulling her phone and readying her camera.

The man in the truck made contact with the little blue EV and bumped it forward—knocking down several protestors. People screamed, and the woman driver scrambled out of the car. The truck driver slammed the EV hard this time, sending people flying. Other protestors surrounded the big rig, and a sturdy young man grabbed the door handle. It wouldn’t open. Other young men climbed into the truck’s bed and began pounding on the back window.

Sophie’s heart hammered as she recorded the chaos. The wail of approaching sirens gave her little comfort.

Finally, the two police officers she’d seen pushed through the crowd, shouting “Get back!” As they reached the truck, they pulled their weapons. The driver revved the engine, and Sophie feared the worst.

A gunshot rang out.

 

Chapter 2

Saturday, 8:15 p.m.

Wade Jackson sat in his favorite chair in the house he’d grown up in, feeling tired but content. It had been a long day on high alert, ready to be called out for almost anything. Riot response, violent-crime intakes, or even homicide. But after the vehicle-initiated melee at the protest, the crowd had eventually dispersed. Eight people had been taken to the ER, most with non-life-threatening injuries, and the driver was in the county jail. The officers had shot out a tire, then taken him into custody without further incident. His truck, however, had been torched by protestors.

“Hey, Dad.” A small hand patted his leg. “Come play Uno with us.”

Jackson opened his eyes and smiled at Benjie, his five-year-old adopted son. “I think I’m too tired.” He’d also come to dislike the damn game, but he never let that show. He loved this sweet blond, blue-eyed boy—who looked nothing like him—with all his heart.

“Come on, one round,” his daughter chimed in. “It’s family game night.” Katie, a spitting image of her dark-haired mother, was a college freshman now, with a goal of becoming a nurse. Her compassion seemed endless.

“Okay. One round.” He forced himself to get up quickly, pretending to have more vigor than he felt.

They moved to the kitchen table, and Katie’s boyfriend, Ryan, took Jackson’s seat. He decided to let it go. The kid was decent and likable, but he spent way too much time here. Time to have that talk again.

Jackson sat next to Benjie so he could see his cards and did everything he could to help the boy win. Not only did he get to experience the child’s joy, but it ended the game more quickly. After he sent Benjie off to brush his teeth, Katie scooted over next to him.

“Can Ryan please stay over?” She squeezed his arm. “He has an eight o’clock class tomorrow morning. It’s stupid for him to drive all the way home every night, then drive back into town six hours later.”

“I’m sorry, but no. We’ve had this conversation.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” Ryan offered.

Yeah, right. “Can I be honest?” Jackson looked back and forth between them.

“Sure.” Katie sounded resigned.

“Do you know who I would like to have here to stay the night?”

His daughter rolled her eyes.

“Yes. My girlfriend. But she doesn’t take up space here out of respect for our family dynamic. And with Ryan’s constant presence, it’s too crowded.” He nodded at the young man with too much hair. “Nothing personal. But this is a small house.”

“So let’s sell it and get something bigger,” Katie countered. “You had it on the market a few months ago. We were all set to move.”

“You said I could be honest, so here’s the rest.” Jackson stood, ready to walk away. “I don’t want to get a bigger house so Ryan can move in.” He looked at the poor guy again. “Still not personal. You guys need to get your own place.”

“We can’t!” Katie jumped up, eyes ablaze. “We’re students with part-time jobs. We can’t afford rent. Even if we shared a room in an apartment near campus, it would still cost a thousand dollars a month. You’re stuck with me until I start working as a nurse.”

Jackson held back a groan. “Katie, you are always welcome.” He walked away and headed for his room. He needed to be alone for a while, then get some sleep. He and all the detectives in the Violent Crimes Unit were scheduled to meet at eight the next morning.

As he lay in bed, he no longer wanted to be alone. He wanted Evans right here with him, every night. But he couldn’t stay over at her place because of Benjie. The boy already had abandonment issues from seeing his mother murdered, then hiding under the house alone for hours. And Evans didn’t like to stay here because of all the kids and chaos. A workable solution had failed to present itself. Jackson reminded himself to be grateful that they were together, then closed his eyes and tried to quiet his thoughts. Busy brain was a sleep thief.

A few hours later, his phone woke him. Jackson sat up, startled and groggy. The device chirped again. Sergeant Lammers’ ringtone. He checked the time: 11:35. This wouldn’t be good.

“What have we got?”

“A homicide. Jakub Dracos, owner of JADE Properties. Murdered in his own home.”

Oh crap. “After the protest today, why wasn’t a patrol unit assigned to his property?”

“It was.” Her voice was so tight, he thought it might snap. “An officer was sitting out there when Dracos was killed. His housekeeper heard a scuffle, found the body, and called it in.”

“What the hell?”

“Yeah. This looks bad for us.”

That wasn’t what mattered. “Call out my team and text me the address.”