Vee patted him on the shoulders. “Don’t worry, T. Everyone in the record business knows that you’re the one with the talent. I just show up, and you make the magic happen.”
He looked down at the floor. “Thanks, Vee.”
We said good night to T-Mix and walked Vee back to her trailer. It was getting dark and the soundstage was empty. It looked like everyone had gone home.
“Come inside for a minute,” said Vee, opening the door. “I just have to call my agent and confirm my hair appointment.”
Joe and I joined her inside the luxury trailer. While Vee made the calls on her cell phone, my brother and I kicked back and played a video game. I was about to blow up Joe’s spaceship when Vee announced that she had left her makeup bag on the soundstage.
“I’ll be right back!”
Joe looked up from the game. “Wait! I’ll go with you!” He jumped up from his chair—and I destroyed his spaceship on the video screen.
They left me in the trailer. I had pushed the reset button and started to play a solo game when I heard something outside.
A bloodcurdling scream.
It’s Vee.
I leaped to my feet, dashed out of the trailer, and charged across the soundstage. Joe and Vee stood against the far wall in front of all the props.
The huge stack had fallen . . .
. . . on top of somebody.
A pair of legs stuck out beneath a cluttered pile of steel bars, wooden panels, and plaster props. All we could see were a large pair of men’s work boots.
“Hurry!” I said. “Let’s move this stuff!”
Joe, Vee, and I started clearing away the wreckage piece by piece. Whoever was buried beneath it all wasn’t moving.
The final piece was a heavy wooden crate. Joe had to help me lift it off the body.
Vee gasped.
“No!”
She spun around and started sobbing. Joe and I looked down to see for ourselves.
“I don’t believe it,” Joe whispered.
Brewster Fink was dead.
15.
A Very Bad Sign
The police responded quickly. While Frank answered their questions, I took Vee back to her trailer. She was really shaken up by Brewster’s death.
“He was more than a crew manager. He was my friend,” she cried. “We’ve been working together for years. He’s like a part of my family.”
I put my arm around her shoulder.
“Why? Why would anyone want to hurt such a sweet guy?” she asked, weeping gently. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
I patted her back, not sure what to tell her. Her friend was dead, and nothing I could say would change that. I pulled her into my arms and hugged her.
There was a knock at the door. “It’s me. Frank.”
“Come in.”
He opened the door and stepped into the trailer. “How are you doing, Vee?” he said softly.
She looked up, her eyes puffy and red. “Not so good,” she whispered. “What’s happening out there? Did the police find anything?”
Frank sat down. “They think there was a struggle. There were scratches on Brewster’s face, and they suspect someone pushed the stack of props on top of him.”
Vee looked down and shook her head.
Frank continued. “There’s something else. The police found a harness underneath Brewster’s body. It looked like someone had cut halfway through the straps to weaken it.”
“A harness?” I asked.
“Yes. It was the body harness that Vee’s supposed to wear during the shoot tomorrow.”
“What are you saying?” said Vee. “Brewster sabotaged the strap so I would fall? I don’t believe it.”
Frank shook his head. “No. I think Brewster walked in and caught the culprit in the act. He was killed because he was a witness.”
Vee sighed. “So it’s all my fault. Brewster died because some lunatic wants to kill me.”
She started to cry again. I hugged her and patted her shoulder. “You should take some time off, Vee,” I whispered in her ear. “Forget about the video.”
She looked up at me. “I’m going to finish this, Joe. Brewster would want me to. As they say in Hollywood, the show must go on.”
Frank looked uneasy. “I wouldn’t go hanging from a body harness if I were you,” he said.
Vee gritted her teeth. “I’m going to do it. Now that we know exactly what the killer is planning, we can double-check the harness and the wires.”
“Do me a favor,” I said. “Triple-check them.”
The next day Aunt Trudy brought us breakfast in bed—along with a copy of the morning paper. “Explain this to me, please,” she said.
I rubbed my eyes and looked down at the front page.
The headline read: AMERICA’S DEADLIEST MUSIC VIDEO: VEE SHARP’S CREW MANAGER DEAD ON ARRIVAL.
Frank and I looked up at our aunt. She was incredibly upset. “It says here that there’s a killer on the loose,” she said. “Someone is stalking Vee Sharp on the set of her video.”
I shook my head. “You know how the reporters exaggerate everything, Aunt Trudy. Yesterday they said Frank and I went to jail for fighting over Vee.”
Aunt Trudy pursed her lips together. “Did somebody really die yesterday?”
“Yes, but it was just an accident,” Frank lied.
“That’s awful. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“We didn’t want you to worry.”
Aunt Trudy sat down on the edge of the bed. “Well, you’re right. I am worried. Maybe you two should skip the last day of shooting.”
My jaw dropped. “But Aunt Trudy . . .”
“Those movie sets can be dangerous. My friend Betty has worked on them. She says people get hurt all the time.”
Frank sat up in bed. “But it’s the last day, Aunt Trudy. Please let us finish our internship. It might help us get into college.”
“And we’ll be extra careful,” I added.
Aunt Trudy weakened. “Oh, all right. But you boys had better stay out of trouble. And don’t do anything stupid or dangerous.”
“We promise,” I said, crossing my fingers beneath the sheets.
After a quick breakfast, Frank and I hopped into the rental car and headed for the Hollywood Hills. We had been told that the world-famous landmark, the Hollywood sign, wasn’t open to the public. It could be reached only by using a narrow dirt path on the side of the road. We were given detailed directions—but as it turned out, we didn’t need them.
The path’s entrance was mobbed with reporters.
“Vee’s agent must have ‘slipped’ the location to the press,” Frank muttered as we pushed our way through the crowd.
Ducking our heads down, we forged onward and ignored the reporters’ questions.
“Do you think the killer will strike today?”
“What actions are you taking to protect Ms. Sharp?”
“Which one of you boys loves her the most?”
Moving up the dirt path, Frank and I approached the top of Mount Lee, the tallest peak in Los Angeles. The director, the cameraman, and the crew were already hard at work, setting up the final scene.
I looked up.
Cool.
There it was—the huge white blocky letters lined up in a long row overlooking the city: HOLLYWOOD.
I’d seen them on postcards and in movies. But they looked so much bigger close up.
Spider Jones, wearing a safari outfit and pith helmet, marched over to greet us. “Hello, guys,” he said. “Did Vee come with you?”
“No,” I told him.
He glanced down at his watch. “I hope she gets here soon. The wardrobe lady wants to do some adjustments on Vee’s superhero costume.”
He turned and walked away. Frank and I made our way along the length of the sign, staring up at the huge crane that swooped over the giant sign.
“So Vee is going to be hanging from that thing?” my brother asked.
“Yeah. She’s supposed to
be a girl superhero. Spider wants to shoot her flying past the Hollywood sign.”
Frank sucked in his breath. “It sounds pretty risky.”
“Yeah, I know.”
I tried to tell myself that everything was going to be okay. The studio had hired extra security guards to keep an eye on things. And the crew assured us that Vee’s harness had already been tested for safety purposes.
“Frank! Joe!”
We turned around and saw Jillian Goode standing at the end of the sign.
“Is Vee here yet?” she asked.
“No,” we answered, walking toward her.
“Well, the killer is here,” she told us.
I glanced at Frank. “What do you mean, Jillian?” he asked. “What makes you say that?”
She waved us forward. The three of us scrambled up the sloping hill behind the giant H. Then Jillian pointed to the back of the sign.
Someone had spray-painted the words: NUMBER 2: FALL FROM THE SKY.
But that wasn’t all.
Underneath, it said: NUMBER 1: FALL OFF THE CHARTS.
“I guess that’s all of them,” said Frank. “The last of the Top Ten Ways to Die.”
My stomach knotted up. I looked at my brother and said, “I guess this means that the killer is going to make his final move today.”
Frank nodded. Jillian gripped him by the arm.
We turned our attention to the dirt path below us. The sound of motorcycle engines echoed in the valley. Spider Jones shouted something, so we scrambled down the hill to see what was going on.
Two motorcycles pulled up in front of the sign. The riders turned off their engines and pulled off their helmets.
It was Vee and her half sister Kay.
I slapped Frank’s arm and laughed. “I didn’t know Vee liked motorcycles.”
Awesome.
We dashed over to greet them. Since Frank and I were motorcycle owners, we had a million questions to ask the Sharp sisters about their bikes.
“Check it out,” said Vee. “I can receive e-mail messages on my dashboard!”
She pointed out the motorcycle’s incredible features—which included a cell phone, Internet access, a personal date book, and a button to open the gates of her mansion.
“Man!” I said. “These are killer bikes!”
I could have kicked myself for using the word “killer,” but Vee and Kay didn’t seem to notice.
Before we could ask more questions, Spider Jones whisked Vee off to see the wardrobe lady. “Jump to it, my little superstar!” he gushed.
Kay grabbed the famous director and started telling him about her future plans to star in her own video. Frank and I used the opportunity to slip away and check up on the technical crew. We wanted to make sure Vee was going to be safe in her body harness.
The man in charge of the flying scene was a real pro. “Trust me,” he told us. “This harness and crane could lift an elephant. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Still, I couldn’t stop thinking about the warning on the back of the Hollywood sign.
FALL FROM THE SKY.
I stared up at the giant crane. Frank patted me on the back. “Everybody’s doing everything they can, Joe,” he said. “Vee’s going to be okay.”
I was about to express my concerns when someone yelled my name.
“Joe! How do I look?”
I turned around. There was Vee—looking totally amazing in a tight pink and gold costume with a long flowing cape. Her hair was shorter and darker, which only made her look more beautiful. If that was possible.
“Vee! You look totally . . . super.”
She laughed. “Thanks. The wardrobe lady really outdid herself, didn’t she?” She spun around, waving her cape in the air.
“LISTEN UP, everyone!” Spider yelled. “Let’s do this! Vee! Are you ready to get into the harness?”
“Ready as ever,” she answered.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she slipped into the body harness and prepared for the scene. The crew tugged on the wire, then gave a signal to the crane operator behind the sign.
“Ready? Lift her up!”
The crane whirred and Vee started rising up in the air. Higher and higher she went, until she floated forty feet over our heads.
“Look! I’m flying!” she shouted down to us. She twirled and swung back and forth gracefully.
“WONDERFUL, Vee!” Spider shouted up at her. “CAMERAS! Start rolling! I don’t want to miss any of this!”
Vee tilted forward, with her hands pointing in front her. She swooped the air, then turned her head and smiled at the camera.
“EXCELLENT! EXCELLENT!” Spider yelled. “Do that again, Vee!”
I started to feel more comfortable as I watched her swing back and forth like a professional acrobat.
Wow, she’s really good at this.
Then something strange happened.
The crane’s engine roared and the giant metal arm jerked to the side.
Vee went flying.
The crane bobbed and jerked again. The sudden movement caused Vee to lose her balance. Her whole body flopped backward, sending her spinning and reeling through the air.
“What’s going on?” I muttered.
The crane lurched. Vee screamed.
I watched helplessly as the metal arm of the crane jumped and swerved. Kicking and screaming, Vee went hurtling toward the sign so fast her body was almost a blur.
Suddenly it hit me.
She’s going to crash!
16.
The Big Chase Scene
“Look out, Vee!” Joe shouted.
The pop star soared toward the sign, spinning out of control, and . . .
Wham!
Her feet crunched down against the giant H and cushioned the impact. Bending her knees, Vee shoved off the sign and went flying backward. The crane pivoted and lurched again.
“Whoooaaah!” Vee shrieked as she swooped through the air in a long arc. It looked like she was going to collide with the other end of the sign.
She’s going to get killed, I thought.
“Come on, Joe!” I said, grabbing my brother’s arm. “Let’s see who’s operating that crane!”
We charged up the hill and scrambled toward the back side of the sign. The crane was braced against the slope, chugging and grinding as it steered the long metal arm back and forth. As we ran toward it, I noticed someone lying on the ground a few feet away.
It was the crane operator. Somebody had knocked him unconscious!
“Who’s moving the crane?” Joe asked, gasping.
We stepped over the operator and looked up at the seat of the crane. Sitting at the controls, laughing madly as he pulled the levers back and forth, was the last person we expected to see: T-Mix!
“Freeze!” I shouted.
The record producer snapped his head around and looked at us. His long braids hung down over his face—but they couldn’t hide the evil glint in his eyes.
Joe and I reached up to grab him.
But T-Mix was too fast for us.
Hopping off the seat of the crane—and fortunately, braking it just before—he hit the ground and took off running down the hill.
Joe and I bolted after him, but it was hard to keep up. The guy was little but fast. As he disappeared around the end of the sign and pushed past the crew, I was afraid we were going to lose him.
“Frank! Over here!” Joe yelled. “The bikes!”
He pointed toward Vee and Kay’s motorcycles. Without even hesitating, we jumped onto the bikes, revved them up, and zoomed down the dirt path after T-Mix.
He glanced back at us—and started running faster.
Joe and I rumbled over the bumps and dips of the steep terrain. Down the hill, faster and faster, we sped toward the highway below.
I didn’t know what was going to happen when we reached the bottom. The road was crowded with trucks, cars, and reporters.
But that didn’t stop T-Mix. He bent down like a running back
at the Superbowl and hurtled headfirst into the crowd.
“Hey! Look out!”
“Who is that guy?”
“He’s crazy!”
The reporters scattered, opening a small path for T-Mix and our motorcycles. We steered the bikes right through the middle of the crowd without hurting anyone.
He’s not getting away now, I thought.
T-Mix ran into the middle of the road, waving his arms at the approaching traffic. A large gray Cadillac screeched to a halt. T-Mix ran around the side of the car, flung open the door, and dragged the driver—Vee’s agent, Jackson Puck—out of the seat.
T-Mix jumped behind the wheel and slammed the door. Then he gassed it, zooming off down the hill.
Jackson started shouting and shaking his fist at him. As Joe and I sped by on the motorcycles, I heard the agent yell, “If you get one scratch on my car, buddy, I’m going to sue you!”
The race was on.
T-Mix was about forty yards ahead of us, swerving back and forth on the long winding road. Joe and I crouched forward and increased our speed. We had to lean hard on the bikes—first right, then left, then right again—to make it through the swooping curves of the Hollywood Hills.
Suddenly my back tire skidded beneath me. For a second I thought I was going to go flying over the guardrail. But then I managed to steady my bike and turn my attention back to the chase.
T-Mix was only ten yards ahead of us now.
I glanced at the houses and lawns that lined the road. I immediately recognized where we were.
It’s Vee’s neighborhood.
As I passed by the huge mansions, I got an idea.
Signaling to Joe with my left hand, I pointed at T-Mix’s car and made a circular motion with my arm. I wasn’t sure if my brother understood, but then he forged ahead in front of me and zoomed up next to the gray Cadillac.
That’s it, Joe! Get ready.
We rounded a sharp curve. I spotted Vee’s house in the distance. Then, glancing down at the dashboard, I pushed the button that opened Vee’s front gate.
Yes! It’s opening!
Joe knew exactly what to do. As soon as he and T-Mix reached the gated entrance, Joe swerved his bike—and forced T-Mix onto Vee’s driveway.
Top Ten Ways to Die Page 9