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Jakob Kerr's debut novel arrives with the confidence and polish of a writer several books deep into a career, and that assurance is well earned. Dead Money is a murder mystery wrapped in a Silicon Valley satire, and both layers work in tandem to produce something genuinely surprising.

The setup is deceptively straightforward. Trevor Canon, the CEO of a red-hot tech startup called Journy, is found shot dead in his private office. Complicating matters is a clause in his recently amended will - the "dead money" provision of the title - which freezes billions in company assets until someone is tried for his murder. Enter Mackenzie Clyde, a lawyer-turned-corporate fixer working for Roger Hammersmith, the ruthless venture capitalist with the most to lose. Hammersmith dispatches Mackenzie to embed herself in the FBI investigation, pairing her with Special Agent Jameson Danner - a man who initially has no time for a VC operative with no criminal training.

What elevates the book beyond its whodunnit framework is Mackenzie herself. At six-foot-two, raised by a single mother, and perpetually underestimated by the powerful men around her, she is one of the most compelling thriller protagonists to emerge in recent years. Kerr threads flashback chapters throughout the narrative that gradually reveal her backstory - a rags-to-determination arc that deepens the present-day stakes and sheds light on her true motivations. She is not simply solving a case; she is manoeuvring toward something larger, and the tension between her professional obligations and personal ambitions gives the novel a propulsive undercurrent that never lets up.

Kerr spent a decade at Airbnb, and that insider knowledge saturates every page. His depiction of the venture capital world - the obscene valuations, the ego-driven boardrooms, the Burning Man pilgrimages - feels lived-in rather than researched. There is a satirist's sensibility at work here, a wry awareness of Silicon Valley's vanities and delusions that keeps the tone sharp without tipping into caricature. Several characters feel like composites of real tech-world figures, and part of the fun is the guessing game that provokes.

The plotting deserves particular praise. What initially presents itself as a conventional mystery turns out to be something more akin to a nesting box of reveals - each layer peeling back to expose another surprise beneath. Every time you think you have a handle on the direction of the story, Kerr steers it somewhere unexpected. The climax, set against the surreal backdrop of Burning Man, is both audacious and earned, and the final pages deliver a genuine jolt.

If there is a minor quibble, it is that the world of venture capital can occasionally feel opaque to outsiders - the financial mechanics require some concentration. But Kerr is a skilled enough storyteller to keep the momentum up even when the subject matter grows complex.

Dead Money is a striking debut - dark, witty, and impressively unpredictable. It marks the arrival of a writer who understands both the thriller genre and the peculiar world he is skewering. Here is hoping Mackenzie Clyde returns.