Top Ten Ways to Die

by Franklin W. Dixon

  She walked to her vanity table and started applying makeup. I guess she liked to do it herself.

  “Are you sure you want to do this, Vee?” Frank asked.

  She nodded. “Today’s our last day in the studio. Then we have a location shoot tomorrow, and the video’s done. I can’t stop now. People are depending on me.”

  I walked up behind her, catching her eye in the mirror. “Okay, Vee. You’re the star.”

  “And don’t you forget it,” she said teasingly. “Now get back to work, you two. I’m sure Brewster has something for you to do.”

  She was right. As soon as Frank and I walked onto the soundstage, the bearded production manager grabbed us by the shoulders and pointed us toward the front entrance.

  “See that four-wheeler cart by the door?” he asked. We nodded, and Brewster continued. “I want you two to wheel it over to the main gate. There’s a big shipment waiting for us there. Load up the sacks and bring them to the front of the building. Got it?”

  We got it.

  The cart was pretty big but easy to push. It took just a couple of minutes to steer it through the lot to the main gate.

  That was the easy part.

  The hard part was watching Vee’s agent, Jackson Puck, talk to all the reporters outside the gate.

  “It looks like he’s giving an interview,” said Frank.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “A big interview.”

  There were dozens of microphones and TV news cameras pointed right at Jackson.

  That’s weird. Vee wanted to keep everything hush-hush.

  We parked the cart next to the security booth and moved closer to hear what he was saying.

  “Vee Sharp is one of the world’s greatest pop sensations. A star like her will always have a few crazy fans,” he told the reporters. “Sometimes these fans can be quite dangerous.”

  He held up several pieces of paper and showed them to the crowd.

  I can’t believe he’s doing this.

  They were the death threats Vee had received—the Top Ten Ways to Die.

  “Look!” I said to Frank. “He’s showing them the messages! Vee would flip out if she knew he was talking to the press!”

  Jackson Puck adjusted his toupee and continued talking.

  “These are just a few of the notes Ms. Sharp has received in recent weeks,” he announced to the mob. “In addition to these disturbing threats, there have also been several attempts on Vee’s life.”

  The reporters went wild.

  “How did the fan try to kill her?”

  “Is she scared?”

  “Will she finish her new video?”

  And the final kicker:

  “Are the Hardy boys on the suspect list?”

  I couldn’t take it any longer.

  Shoving through the crowd, I grabbed Jackson Puck by the arm. “What are you doing?” I asked him. “Vee wants to keep all of this quiet!”

  Puck shot me a nasty look and sneered. “Look, kid. You’re just an intern. I’m her agent, and I know what I’m doing.”

  “But it’s not what Vee wants you to do.”

  The slimy agent glared at me. “Listen,” he muttered under his breath. “This is the story of the year. All of the celebrity news shows are here. Hollywood Excess. Entertainment Now. Behind the Pop Songs. You just can’t buy publicity like this!”

  He pushed me aside and grinned at the reporters.

  Then a big gust of wind blew the toupee off his head.

  Everybody burst out laughing—and the cameras caught the look of horror on Jackson Puck’s face. I walked away and found my brother.

  “What happened?” Frank asked. “What did he say to you?”

  I looked him in the eye. “He just gave me a very good reason why he might be the one behind all the death threats.”

  Frank and I decided to ignore the rest of Jackson’s interview. Instead we asked the security guard about the shipment that Brewster had sent us to pick up.

  “Right over there,” the guard said, pointing across the lot. “That pile of burlap sacks.”

  We thanked him and pushed the four-wheeler cart toward the tall mountain of sacks.

  “I guess Brewster thinks we’re pretty strong,” said Frank. “That pile must weigh a ton.”

  I reached up and lifted one of the overstuffed sacks. “Actually, it’s not too heavy,” I said.

  Frank looked like he didn’t believe me. “Yeah, right. Light as a feather, I’m sure.”

  He grabbed a sack and hefted it onto his shoulder.

  “You weren’t kidding, Joe.”

  “Hey, bro,” I said. “Would I kid you?”

  “Would an agent sell his soul for a big story on Hollywood Excess?”

  I laughed and helped him load up the cart. A little while later, we were pushing the burlap-covered cargo to Building A. I walked to the doorway and poked my head inside.

  “Hey, Brewster! Where do you want this shipment?”

  Brewster Fink strolled up to us, smiling. “That’s quite a load there. Hope you boys didn’t hurt yourselves.”

  “No,” said Frank. “The sacks are pretty light. What’s in them?”

  “Sawdust.”

  “Sawdust? What for?”

  “For the circus scene.”

  “Circus scene?”

  My mind started racing.

  What dangerous thing are they going to make Vee do now? Walk a tightrope? Swing on a trapeze? Stand up on a galloping horse?

  “What do you want us to do with all this sawdust?” Frank asked.

  “Take it inside,” Brewster told us, “and spread it around inside the cage.”

  Oh, no.

  “The cage?” I asked.

  “Yeah. The lion’s cage.”

  I can’t believe my ears.

  “A lion’s cage, Brewster?” I said. “You mean, Vee is going to perform with real live lions?”

  My question was immediately answered—with a loud roar inside the building.

  12.

  Into the Lion’s Den

  Lions. Great.

  “This is crazy,” I said to Joe as we pushed the sacks of sawdust to the back of the building. “Vee is getting death threats every day. Someone has tried to poison her, electrocute her, drown her . . . you name it. And now she’s going to do a scene with wild animals?”

  Another loud roar made us jump.

  Joe and I turned around—and there they were. Two massive beasts with long manes and sharp claws, the lions paced back and forth inside a small cage on wheels.

  One of them spotted us and growled.

  “Pretty scary,” Joe had to admit.

  Brewster Fink walked over to us. “Hey, boys. Start spreading the sawdust inside the circus cage. Then the animal trainer can unload the lions.”

  We looked at the large round cage in the center of the soundstage. Behind it the crew was hanging backdrops painted with cartoon clowns and wagons and elephants. I glanced at Joe.

  “Vee isn’t going inside the cage with the lions, is she?” he asked.

  Brewster laughed. “Of course she is!”

  Joe and I were speechless.

  Brewster laughed again and pointed to a machine with a lever, a wheel, and a steel cable. “Watch this,” he said, pulling the lever.

  The wheel started turning and unrolling the cable. Above the round cage, a large panel of iron bars began to lower down. It divided the cage perfectly in half.

  “You see?” said Brewster. “Vee will be in one half, and the lions will be in the other half. The camera will be placed over here, right in the middle, so the divider will be blocked from view. It’ll just look like they’re in the cage together.”

  Joe and I weren’t convinced.

  Something can go wrong.

  But Brewster was in no mood to argue with us. “Now get to work on that sawdust.”

  He raised the divider, and Joe and I started hauling the sacks into the cage. Dumping them out one by one, we spread the sawdust evenly acro
ss the floor.

  The lions roared at us the whole time.

  “I don’t like this, Frank,” said my brother. “Do you see the claws on those man-eaters? They could reach right through the bars and . . .”

  He stopped talking. I could see how worried he was. I knew that he liked Vee a lot—even if they hadn’t set a wedding date.

  When we finished the job, the animal trainer wheeled the lions over to the cage and unleashed them. The two giant beasts leaped out and roared, kicking up sawdust with every stroke of their paws. The trainer stepped into the cage with them. Cracking a whip, he tried to force them toward the far end of the cage.

  The lions weren’t thrilled about it.

  In fact, they fought the trainer every step of the way. They opened their jaws and roared—exposing long rows of razor-sharp teeth.

  The trainer cracked the whip. The lions backed off.

  “Okay! Lower the divider!” he shouted.

  Brewster pushed the lever, and the steel bars came down, trapping the lions in the far end of the cage.

  “See, boys?” said Brewster. “It’s one hundred percent safe.”

  I looked at Joe. He winced.

  “Let’s go talk to Vee,” he said. “I don’t think she should do this.”

  I followed him out to the trailer. As he reached up to knock, the door swung open. Out stepped Vee.

  She was dressed as a ringmaster.

  “Hi, guys,” she greeted us. “What do you think of my outfit? Pretty cool, huh?”

  She spun around and showed off her white puffy pants, tall black boots, and red fitted jacket. Her hair was swept up and tucked inside a tall black hat.

  “Stand back, boys.”

  She cracked a whip in the air.

  Joe and I tried to laugh—but we were too worried to enjoy the fashion show.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, seeing our faces.

  Joe took a step forward. “We don’t think you should do the scene, Vee. It’s too dangerous.”

  Vee frowned. “Look,” she said. “I’ve been practicing with the animal trainer. And I’ll be separated from the lions. It’s totally safe.”

  “Like the goldfish bowl?” I pointed out. “And the tarantulas?”

  “Yeah, Vee,” said Joe. “On this set, even the bottled water is dangerous.”

  Vee sighed and leaned back against the trailer. “Maybe you’re right,” she said. “Maybe I shouldn’t do the lion-taming scene.”

  “WHAT?”

  Spider Jones came bustling toward us, his spiky hair standing on end.

  “You must do the lion-taming scene, Vee!” he cried. “My artistic vision depends on it!”

  I was starting to get real tired of this guy. Sure, he was a hot-shot music video director. But he didn’t care about Vee—or her safety—at all.

  “I don’t understand, Mr. Jones,” I said politely. “What kind of artistic vision is worth risking Vee’s life?”

  Spider turned and glared at me. At first it looked like he was going to blow up at me. Then he took a deep breath and explained himself.

  “I see Vee Sharp as a role model for young girls. I see her as a strong and powerful leader. I see her as a black widow who rules her web. I see her as a mermaid who hypnotizes with her beauty. I see her as the first woman on the moon. I see her as a lion tamer and a superhero . . . and so much more.”

  I looked the director in the eye. “Do you want to see her dead, too?”

  Spider grunted. “Of course not.”

  “Look, Mr. Jones,” said Joe, stepping forward. “We’re not asking you to cancel the shoot or anything. We want you to come up with a safer way to film Vee with the lions.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “What if you put her outside the cage and used special effects to add more bars in the editing room?”

  Spider shook his head. “It’s too expensive. And it’s too late now anyway. Everything is set and ready to go. Do you know how much time and money we’d lose if we changed it now?”

  We stood there in silence.

  Brewster Fink walked out of the building and approached us. “We’re all set, Spider.” He looked at Vee and grinned. “Are you ready to tame some lions?”

  Everyone looked at Vee.

  She took a deep breath and stared thoughtfully at the ground. Then she lifted her head and flashed her world-famous smile.

  “I’m ready.”

  The lions had finally calmed down.

  “Places, everyone! Places!”

  The director sat down in his chair, and the crew backed away from the cage. I joined Joe and Jillian next to the cable machine that lifted and lowered the divider.

  I wanted to keep my eye on that lever.

  “Keep your fingers crossed,” I whispered to Jillian.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “Vee isn’t afraid of the lions. I watched the trainer give her lessons last week. She’s cool about all this.”

  Jillian was trying to act brave. But I could tell she was nervous by the way she dug her fingers into her notebook. She held it so tightly to her chest, I was afraid she was going to rip the binding in half.

  “What’s in the notebook?” I asked.

  “Oh, this? I’m keeping track of things for Vee. I’m hoping she’ll hire me as her personal assistant.”

  I nodded and turned my attention to Spider Jones, who was giving last-minute directions to his star.

  “Okay, Vee. Before we film you with the lions, I want to get some shots of you singing the lyrics. When the music starts, walk slowly along the cage right here and sing directly to the camera. It’s on a track so it can follow along as you move.”

  Vee nodded.

  “Okay! Places!” Spider yelled.

  Vee took her spot inside the cage, glancing at the lions on the other side of the divider. She tried to hide her nervousness with a smile. Then the camera rolled up along the outside of the cage, the lens pointing at the bars.

  “Ready? Camera! And music!”

  There was a short pause. At first all you could hear was the soft whir of the camera. Then, suddenly, the sound of loud music blasted across the stage.

  Vee’s hit song, “Girls Rule,” exploded from a pair of speakers.

  The lions leaped.

  And roared.

  Loudly.

  Vee Sharp jumped back—and missed her cue.

  “Cut! Cut! CUT!” yelled the director. “Turn off the music!”

  The song was stopped—but the lions kept roaring.

  “I’m sorry, Spider,” said Vee. “The lions startled me.”

  The animal trainer approached them. “Sorry, Ms. Sharp, but the lions don’t seem to like your music very much,” he explained.

  Vee shrugged. “Everyone’s a critic, it seems.”

  “Could we shoot the scene in silence?” asked the trainer.

  Spider frowned. “No. We need to play the music so Vee can lip-synch. The lions will just have to deal with it.”

  “Well, maybe you could lower the volume,” the trainer suggested.

  Spider agreed.

  The soundman adjusted the levels, and everybody took their places again.

  “CAMERA! And MUSIC!”

  Vee’s song flowed through the speakers—at a much lower volume.

  But the lions still hated it.

  They growled and roared. They clawed at the air. They ran circles inside the cage.

  Vee shuddered—and missed her cue again.

  But that wasn’t going to stop Spider Jones. “Vee! Just ignore the lions! Cameraman! Keep rolling! Soundman! Start the song again! From the top!”

  The music screeched to a halt. Vee tried to collect herself, but it wasn’t easy. The lions kept roaring at her through the divider.

  I glanced at Joe.

  Man, he’s even more nervous than Jillian.

  Both of them stared anxiously toward the cage. In fact, the entire video crew seemed to be holding their breath.

  The music started again.

  The
lions snarled—but Vee took her director’s advice and ignored them. With a flirty smile, she started singing along with the recording.

  “Girls . . . girls . . . girls rule. . . .”

  Spider grinned and waved his star forward. Vee began walking along the bars of the cage, the camera tracking her every move.

  “Look out, boys,” she crooned. “Girls rule. . . .”

  I was definitely impressed. Vee seemed to be in full control, singing the song and strutting her stuff with loads of attitude. She didn’t look scared at all.

  That’s when everything went wrong.

  The closer Vee got to the divider, the wilder the lions seemed to get.

  Suddenly one of them swiped at her through the bars.

  Vee screamed.

  Staggering backward, she stumbled to the ground. The crew jumped up in a panic, and the director started yelling.

  I grabbed Joe by the arm—to keep him from rushing into the scene.

  But we should have been watching Jillian Goode.

  The young fan was swooning beside us. The blood suddenly rushed from her face. Her eyes flickered. Then she fainted and collapsed.

  On top of the lever!

  Joe and I lunged to catch her.

  But it was too late.

  The steel divider started rising up in the cage. Vee Sharp was trapped inside. . . .

  With two very angry lions.

  13.

  Claws of Death

  The lions rushed forward.

  “Vee!” I gasped.

  The whole crew froze in place—and watched in helpless horror as the savage beasts circled around the pop star.

  Vee stood in the center of the cage, gripping the whip in both hands. She turned her head from one lion to the other, not sure what to do.

  They growled—and moved in closer.

  Suddenly somebody pushed past a group of stagehands and rushed to the door of the cage.

  It was the animal trainer.

  Yes! Help her!

  The stocky man flung open the door and stepped inside. “SIT! DOWN!” he shouted, cracking his whip.

  The lions turned their heads. First they simply stared at the guy. Then they attacked.