Top Ten Ways to Die

by Franklin W. Dixon

“All the good stuff is gone,” Joe whined, staring down at the buffet.

  He was right. All that was left was a brown banana and two tiny oranges. No donuts, no Danishes, no muffins.

  “Good morning, sleepyheads!”

  It was Aunt Trudy—floating on an inflatable raft in the middle of the pool. She held a cup of coffee in one hand and a plate of pastries in the other.

  “Aunt Trudy,” I said. “You grabbed all the goodies.”

  “Well, you know what they say. The early bird catches the cinnamon bun,” she said, winking. “Actually, I was saving them for you boys.”

  She paddled her way to the edge of the pool and handed me the plate. Joe grabbed an apple tart and sank his teeth in.

  “What time did you boys get back last night?” Aunt Trudy asked. “I was waiting up for you, but I needed my beauty rest.”

  What had gotten into Aunt Trudy? I hadn’t seen her this cheery in years!

  “We were shooting until ten o’clock,” I said. “The crew had to make last-minute changes on the set. They built this big spiderweb, and Vee Sharp was dressed up as a black widow.”

  Aunt Trudy grunted. “Now why would they make such a pretty girl dress up like a spider?”

  “Her song is called ‘Girls Rule,’” I explained. “It’s all about strong women, so the director wants to showcase Vee in a bunch of different roles. Last night she was a black widow and they filmed her with live tarantulas.”

  Aunt Trudy made a face. “Poor girl. That must have been awful for her.”

  Joe shook his head. “No, she was a real trouper, Aunt Trudy. You should have seen how brave she was.”

  A smile crept over Aunt Trudy’s face. “I think Vee Sharp has a secret admirer.”

  “Not so secret,” I said with a laugh. “You should have seen them making eyes at each other. I think they’re in love.”

  Joe almost choked on his apple tart. “Look who’s talking, Frank! You spent half the night flirting with Jillian Goode!”

  “Who’s Jillian Goode?” asked Aunt Trudy.

  “The president of the Vee Sharp Fan Club,” said Joe. “She’s got a huge crush on Frank.”

  “No, she doesn’t,” I said.

  “Yes, she does.”

  I threw a donut at him.

  “Hey!” snapped Aunt Trudy. “Don’t waste the food! This hotel is a little stingy with their Continental breakfast. And I need my energy today. I’m meeting my friend Betty. We’re going to take one of those bus tours of celebrity homes.”

  I was relieved that Aunt Trudy was keeping herself busy.

  “That’s cool. Have fun with Betty. And say hello for us.” I stood up and pulled the car keys out of my pocket. “Come on, Joe. We have to get going now. I have a feeling we have another killer day ahead of us.”

  When we pulled into the studio lot, we were surprised to see a flatbed truck with a large water tank parked in front of Building A.

  “I wonder what this is all about,” I said, getting out of the rental car.

  “There’s one way to find out,” said Joe, pointing to the ground. “Follow the hose.”

  A big black rubber hose led from the tank into the building, uncoiling across the soundstage like a giant snake in a horror film. Finally we reached the end.

  “Wow,” said Joe. “Check it out.”

  A gigantic larger-than-life goldfish bowl sat on an oversized nightstand next to a humongous bed. The whole set looked like a boy’s bedroom—but built in monster scale.

  “What do you think?”

  Brewster Fink came up behind us, beaming with pride.

  “It’s awesome,” I said.

  “The crew worked on it all night long,” he told us. “But that’s not all. Come take a look at this.”

  Brewster led around the set and pointed to another set. It was an exact replica of the giant bedroom—except human-size.

  “We need to shoot the scene twice, in two different scales,” the beard man explained. “Then we’ll edit them together in postproduction. It’s a special effect.”

  I didn’t quite understand.

  Brewster continued. “We’ll shoot Vee Sharp inside the big goldfish bowl. Then we’ll film a boy lying in the smaller bed watching the bowl. It’ll look like the boy is staring at Vee in the bowl.”

  “Who’s the boy?” Joe asked.

  “You are,” said Brewster.

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you. Spider says you have the look he wants for the scene. Will you do it?”

  “Um, well, ah, sure, okay,” Joe sputtered.

  I gave him a little kick in the shin.

  “Break a leg, Joe,” I teased.

  Brewster laughed. Suddenly Spider Jones dashed onto the set.

  “You! Intern!” spouted the director, pointing at Joe. “Go to the wardrobe trailer and get into your pajamas! Now! And where’s my star? Somebody bring Vee to the set!”

  Jillian Goode rounded the corner, pushing an empty wheelchair. “I’ll get her, Mr. Jones!” she said.

  Why does Vee Sharp need a wheelchair? I wondered. Has she been injured? Or attacked?

  Joe and I ran after Jillian. “Wait!” I shouted. “Jillian!”

  She stopped in front of Vee’s trailer.

  “Is Vee okay?” said Joe, his face filled with concern. “What’s up with the wheelchair?”

  Jillian giggled. “Vee can’t walk in her mermaid costume.”

  “Mermaid costume?”

  Joe’s eyes lit up—and I started laughing.

  “Control yourself, bro,” I whispered in his ear. “Go get into your pajamas. And get ready for your close-up.”

  I pushed him toward the wardrobe trailer.

  A few minutes later, Joe was ready to go. I had to laugh at the powder blue pajamas they made him wear. Covered with little stars and moons, they looked like something a five-year-old would wear.

  But they weren’t as funny as his makeup.

  “Awww, Joe! You look so cute!” I teased.

  My brother rolled his eyes—which only made him look funnier. The makeup artist had put rosy pink circles on his cheeks and long brown lashes on his eyelids. He looked like a little boy in a comic book.

  “Places, everyone! PLACES!”

  Spider Jones clapped his hands, and the entire crew jumped into action. Joe quickly hopped into bed, resting his head on the big fluffy pillow.

  The tall, thin director crouched down in front of him.

  “Now listen, Joe,” he explained softly. “You’re a little boy, and it’s bedtime. But you can’t stop looking at your goldfish bowl. Why? Because your favorite fish has miraculously turned into a beautiful mermaid.”

  Joe frowned thoughtfully and nodded his head.

  “Okay! LIGHTS! CAMERA!”

  Spider stood up and positioned himself behind the cameraman. He pointed a finger at my brother, who glanced around the set nervously.

  Poor Joe. He looked terrified.

  “ACTION!”

  The camera started whirring. Joe turned his head slowly on the pillow and gazed at the goldfish bowl on the nightstand.

  “CUT!”

  The cameraman stopped filming. Spider Jones jumped like a jackrabbit, waving his hands in front of Joe’s face.

  “No, no, NO!” he shouted. “I want to see love. I want to see mystery. I want to see passion.”

  Joe bit his lip.

  “No, no, NO,” Spider squealed, throwing his hands into the air. “Perhaps you need some inspiration, John.”

  “Joe,” my brother corrected him.

  “Whatever,” said Spider, spinning around toward the crew. “Where is my star? Bring in Ms. Sharp!”

  “I’ll get her, sir,” said Jillian Goode.

  The young fan club president disappeared around the corner and returned a few seconds later with Vee Sharp in the wheelchair.

  “Wow,” I muttered under my breath.

  Vee Sharp made a beautiful mermaid. Her long, flowing hair was decorated with small seashells, a
nd her shiny green tail fin flopped gracefully over the edge of the wheelchair.

  The whole crew burst into applause.

  “Magnificent,” said Spider Jones. He pushed Jillian aside and wheeled the stunning pop star onto the small bedroom set. “We’ll place you right here, Ms. Sharp,” he said, positioning her behind the nightstand. “Now Jack here can see what he’s looking at.”

  “It’s Joe,” my brother and Vee corrected the director at the same time. Then their eyes met, and they both started giggling.

  “Quiet, please,” said Spider. “Quiet on the set! Lights, camera, ACTION!”

  Joe laid his head on the pillow. Then, slowly turning, he stared at the goldfish bowl—and at Vee.

  “That’s it, Joe,” the director whispered. “You’re looking at a beautiful mermaid. Yes, yes. You love her, Joe. You want to kiss her, Joe.”

  My brother started blushing.

  “Excellent, Joe,” Spider gasped. “That’s it. Keep staring. Yes! And CUT!”

  Jillian Goode snuck up next to me. “Your brother and Vee seem to have good chemistry together,” she whispered.

  I had to admit she was right. My brother, the ladies’ man.

  After a few more takes, the crew moved the camera and some lights to the giant-size bedroom set. Jillian wheeled Vee Sharp next to the enormous nightstand, where Brewster Fink was ready to hook the star up to a tall crane.

  “We’re going to lower you into the water very slowly,” he explained to Vee. “Are you going to be all right?”

  Vee nodded. “Sure. This will be fun. And don’t worry. I’m a good swimmer.”

  Joe came up beside me, wiping the makeup off his face with a large towel. “I don’t like the looks of this,” he said. “Vee could get hurt.”

  He was right.

  The goldfish bowl was about ten feet tall and ten feet across. Filled with water, it must have weighed a ton. I sure hoped the giant nightstand was strong enough to support it.

  We moved in closer for a better view.

  Brewster Fink placed a harness around Vee’s shoulders. Then he hooked her up to a cable that was connected to the crane. Spider Jones walked onto the set, smiled at his star, and started talking about the scene. The cameraman and crew finished setting up.

  “We’re ready to go, Spider,” said Brewster.

  The director stood up and clapped his hands. “Okay! Quiet on the set! Get Ms. Sharp into position!”

  Brewster waved at the crane operator, who pulled a lever, and the sound of a motor echoed inside the building. Slowly, Vee Sharp was lifted up, higher and higher—until she was dangling in the air over the goldfish bowl.

  “Hello, down there!” she shouted out, flapping and waving her mermaid’s tail at us.

  We laughed and waved back.

  “Okay! Lower her into the bowl!” Brewster shouted.

  Down, down, down she went—her tail fin plunging into the water.

  “Okay, stop!”

  Brewster climbed up a tall steel ladder and unhooked the harness from Vee’s shoulders. With a splash, she fell into the water. Completely immersed, her long hair flowing around her, she swam back and forth like a fish. Finally her head popped up on the surface.

  “How’s that, Spider?” she asked.

  “Perfect! Perfect!” he cheered. “Do it just like that for the camera. And don’t forget to beckon with your arms.”

  Brewster folded up the ladder and carried it off the set. “Move the crane back!” he yelled. “It’s casting a shadow.”

  Soon everything was ready to go. Spider Jones asked everyone to be quiet, and the cameras started rolling.

  “ACTION!”

  Vee Sharp started swimming back and forth in the goldfish bowl. She waved her tail fin and beckoned with her arms.

  So far, so good.

  Then I heard a strange sound—like wire snapping.

  I tilted my head and looked upward. Something dangled in the air above the entire set. A pair of cables had broken.

  And a whole section of the bedroom wall was falling.

  “Look out!” I yelled.

  But it was too late. A tall panel tilted forward and landed on top of the goldfish bowl. The whole soundstage trembled. Vee Sharp looked up and panicked. Air bubbled out of her mouth as she swam upward, beating her hands against the panel. But it wouldn’t budge.

  Vee Sharp was trapped.

  And drowning.

  7.

  Girl Under Glass

  Jillian Goode screamed. “She’s going to drown! Somebody do something!”

  Brewster Fink and his crew rushed onto the set, grabbing the fallen panel and trying to lift it off.

  “Come on! Lift!” he shouted.

  But it was useless. The giant panel was wedged against the rest of the scenery.

  Vee!

  I stared helplessly into the fishbowl. Vee struggled and thrashed underwater, her fists pounding against the thick glass.

  I had to think fast.

  The panel was stuck on top of the bowl. I glanced across the set and spotted a large sledgehammer on the floor. Maybe I could smash through the glass.

  No. Vee could get hurt.

  Jillian jumped up and down, still screaming. Spider Jones waved his arms wildly in the air. Everyone was rushing around in a panic . . . but doing nothing to save her.

  Then Brewster had an idea. “Bring the crane over!” he yelled. “We can lift the panel off.”

  The crane operator jumped behind the controls—but I knew he wouldn’t be able to make it in time.

  Vee’s drowning!

  Her body twisted and turned frantically in the water. Swimming forward, she tried kicking against the glass with her tail fin. But it was no use.

  Suddenly her whole body buckled. I watched in horror as a rush of air bubbles spewed from her mouth.

  She’s swallowing water!

  I had to do something. Fast.

  Then it hit me.

  “Frank! Do you have the pocket pen?”

  Before my brother could even answer me, I thrust my hand into his jacket and pulled out the small silver device we had received from ATAC.

  The thermal cutting tool.

  I dashed across the set and climbed up onto the oversized nightstand.

  “Get back, Vee! Move away from the glass!” I shouted, waving my hand at her.

  She seemed to understand. Once she swam to the far end of the fishbowl, I charged up the small tool with a push of a button. Then I pressed it against the glass.

  First the tip turned red. A thin stream of smoke drifted up from the glass.

  It’s working!

  I pressed harder and harder, and soon the tip of the device started pushing through the glass. Inch after inch, it melted a narrow groove on the surface. Guiding it along, I carved a large circle into the side of the bowl. Water sprayed, then gushed, across my hand.

  Yes!

  Suddenly the circle broke away, grazing my shoulder as it flew to the ground. A heavy flow of cold water splashed across my face—and the water level started falling.

  I stood back and peered into the goldfish bowl. Vee floated faceup along the surface. Gasping for breath, she lifted her mouth up to the small pocket of air between the water and the panel.

  “She’s breathing!” Jillian shouted.

  The crew started cheering.

  “Come on, move this panel!” Brewster shouted to his crew. “Hook it onto the crane! Hurry!”

  Inside the goldfish bowl, Vee Sharp coughed—and smiled.

  It took another twenty minutes before they were able to pull Vee out of the water. Jillian waited on the sidelines with a big fluffy bathrobe, which she threw over Vee as soon as they lowered her into the wheelchair.

  Vee was shaking. Her lip quivering, she looked up at me with a little smile and whispered, “Thank you, Joe.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Just one question. What did you use to cut through the glass?”

  I wasn’t about to tell her that I
owned the latest top secret spy tool, so I said, “It’s just something I ordered out of a catalogue.”

  That seemed to satisfy her. I had started to wheel her back to the trailer, when we heard a loud thud and the sound of gasps. I spun around to see what was going on.

  The crane operator had lowered the fallen panel to the floor. Brewster Fink and the rest of the crew gathered around it, staring down in shock.

  Large letters had been cut out and pasted on the back of the scenery: NUMBER 6: DROWNING.

  Vee Sharp shivered.

  “Come on,” I said, pushing the wheelchair away. “Let’s get you warmed up, Vee.”

  Frank, Jillian, and I wheeled the pop star to her trailer. Her long mermaid tail dragged on the ground beside her. We had to form a cradle with our arms to lift her up and carry her inside.

  Finally we dropped her into the lounge chair, and Vee let out a loud sigh. “Top Ten Ways to Die,” she mumbled.

  Jillian looked confused, so Vee explained the whole story to her. Jillian listened carefully, then stood up.

  “I think I know who’s behind this,” she said.

  We all looked at her.

  “Brewster Fink,” she said.

  Vee shook her head. “Brewster? No way.”

  Jillian started pacing back and forth. “Think about it. He has full access to all the props and sets. He’s always the last one to leave the soundstage at the end of the day. And he certainly would know how to rig up the scenery to fall like that.”

  I glanced at Frank.

  She had a point.

  But Vee wasn’t buying it. “It doesn’t make any sense. Why would Brewster want to hurt me?”

  “Don’t you remember? You threatened to fire him last summer,” said Jillian. She looked at Frank and me. “Brewster messed up—big-time—during Vee’s concert tour. He forgot to set up her key lights. She did half the show in total darkness.”

  “Brewster is part of your road crew?” I asked Vee.

  Vee nodded. “Yeah. I use him all the time. He’s an amazing technician. He can do anything: lights, sets, special effects, you name it. But that night, I guess I flipped out. I was so mad, I told him that I’d fire him if he screwed up again.”

  I thought about what she was saying.

  Brewster Fink was there with Vee when she started receiving the Top Ten death threats.