by Doug Cooper
Marcus scribbles down the date and time, drawing a line underneath. “Thought you didn’t have much to offer other than the pictures?”
Gabe shifts in his seat. “I just really didn’t want to get involved before. I was embarrassed for even having the pictures. And I was trying to keep my sister from getting tangled up in it all. But it’s too late for that.”
Marcus looks down, gliding the pen over the tablet, capturing the words. “Tell me what you saw.”
Only a single word spills out of Gabe. “Everything.”
Marcus stops writing. His eyes rise to Gabe. “I’m going to need you to be more specific.”
Gabe pushes out his chest, arching his shoulders and releasing a breath. “The pictures show Emily James climb on top of him naked in the water, but there was a lot more that happened. Marcus busily writes down the details. Gabe continues, his right leg bouncing, shaking the conference table. “From there Levi lifted here up and they had sex standing in the water.
“Are you aware we have your other pictures? You sure you’re willing to corroborate what they show?”
“Hundred percent,” Gabe says. “I had a clear view…through my… my telephoto lens.” Hearing the words aloud embarrasses Gabe even more. “You have to know, though. I wasn’t there for that. I was there only for the waterfall.”
Marcus punctuates the remark about the telephoto lens with an emphatic dot of the pen. “It was a closeup then? Anything else you can share?”
Gabe shakes his head. “Yes. After several minutes of heavy activity, Levi walked her out of the water to the shore. He lowered her to the ground and they continued.”
Marcus jots down the new information. “Levi was definitely on top? I want you to think about this. It’s very important. You’re sure he climbed on top of her?”
“Yes, absolutely. No doubt about that.”
Marcus underlines the last sentence twice. He looks up at Gabe. “In your estimation, how long were they engaged in intercourse?”
“That I’m not sure of,” Gabe says shaking his head. “It seemed like several minutes, but I was pretty uncomfortable with the whole situation, so it could’ve been less. I mean, I had no idea who it was at the time.”
Marcus cuts him off. “What happened next?”
“Some rocks tumbled down the ledge from where I was standing, and Levi looked up. He must’ve caught a glare or some reflection I think because he looked directly where I was. I panicked and took off.”
“I want you to think back over it all,” Marcus says. “At any time during the whole experience, did it appear like he was forcing himself in any way?”
Gabe hesitates, carefully considering his words. He wants to say yes and really complicate things for Levi, but he can’t. The truth is as far as he is willing to go for his revenge. He says, “No, the whole thing seemed consensual. I thought they were a normal couple. If anything, it looked like she was the aggressor. He actually seemed to be resisting at first. As I said before, it wasn’t until I showed my sister some of the pictures that I found out who they were and that she was only seventeen.”
Marcus finishes writing, filling up almost the entire page. “I think that should do it. If you can wait about ten minutes, I’ll have my assistant type up this statement for you to sign.”
Gabe nods, leaning back in the chair. “What happens then?”
Marcus rises from the chair and walks around the table toward the door. “This, combined with the pics, will be enough to get an arrest warrant issued, and we can pick up and charge Mr. Combs.”
Gabe rotates at the torso, following Marcus’s movement around the room. “So, he’ll be in custody?”
“Probably not for long,” Marcus says, stopping in the doorway. “He’ll lawyer up and be out in a few hours. Depending on the court schedule, it may be a month or two before this goes to trial.”
Gabe sinks in the chair. “That’s, disappointing. What kind of sentence are we looking at?”
Marcus says, “She’s a minor more than three years younger so we’ll ask for a year in prison and a civil penalty of ten thousand dollars.”
“And the chances of that happening?” Gabe says, doubt creeping into his speech.
“The evidence is solid and with your testimony, it should be a pretty airtight case.” Marcus moves out of the room but leans back through the doorway speaking to Gabe. “Be back in ten minutes. You sure I can’t get you anything?”
“No, I’m fine,” Gabe says, sinking back in the chair.
The door swings closed behind Marcus. He walks into the field of desks, firing commands across the office. Although everyone had been watching the conference room, trying to determine through the glass what was being said, all heads are down pretending to focus on other work as he speaks. One by one, heads pop up reacting to his instructions.
Gabe remains still in the chair with his back to the office. Relieved it’s over, he stares straight at the wall with his hands folded in front of him on the table.
◆◆◆
At home in Malibu, Levi reclines on his couch, watching an entertainment news show. The sixty-five-inch flat-screen TV mounted on the wall casts a flickering glow diminishing his disheveled demeanor. He hasn’t showered in days nor shaved in many more. Whiskers push through into a full neck beard. His shiny hair from lack of washing is matted on one side and sticking up on the other. Black mesh shorts and a V-neck hang on his body for the third day in a row. Each night he discarded them by the side of the bed only to slip them back on the next morning. Crumbs mixed with dandruff cover the front of the shirt. Sweat and spots of urine and dried semen, which have absorbed into the shorts from repeated wear, evoke an acrid, musky scent that precede and follow him with every movement.
The days since he killed the photographer and fired Eva have been filled with mostly sleep, but deliveries—from food to drugs to sex, all the staples for a reclusive bender—parade through the gate from early evening to the late morning the rest of the time. All the negativity of the past weeks made it impossible to go anywhere and staying numb was the only way he could stay at home, so he burrowed in with no intention of leaving anytime soon. Since becoming famous, this is what he had learned to do both to celebrate and to sulk—or, in this case, to hide. Typically, one of these types of benders would last only two to three days, but once he had gone nine straight. The detox from that one almost killed him though. He had gotten used to having the night sweats, insomnia, anxiety, and some tremoring coming off one of the benders, but that time, severe vomiting, a racing heartbeat, and even some hallucinations were part of the withdrawal. After the fourth day and worsening symptoms, he thought about checking into a facility, but Eva didn’t want the publicity, so she had a doctor make a house call. He hooked Levi up to an IV and fed him some benzos for the anxiety and a beta-blocker for the heart rate. Levi was back to normal in twenty-four hours, which was probably a bad thing in the long run. Without the painful recovery, there wasn’t really anything to discourage the benders and incentivize him to find another coping mechanism. With everything that has happened this time, he knows the nine-day record is probably in jeopardy.
On the TV, the words of the female entertainment show host catch his attention. “Things just keep getting worse for Levi Combs. Take a look at this footage from outside the courthouse earlier.”
The screen cuts to Marcus Ambrose addressing a group of reporters on the intermediate level of the steps of City Hall. American flags line the top of the five archways leading into the art deco building with the rectangular tower rising out of the shot. He says, “Due to additional evidence and a witness coming forward to testify, the DA’s office has filed charges against Levi Combs.”
A reporter in the crowd shouts a question. “What penalty will you be seeking?”
“In its ongoing effort of zero tolerance for child sex crimes, the State will be asking for the max
imum penalty of a felony conviction and one year in a state prison facility.”
Another reporter asks, “Is Emily James the witness?”
Marcus says, “The DA’s office will not discuss any specifics of its prosecution at this time. Thank you.” He turns from the group of reporters and walks up the courthouse steps.
The camera redirects from the podium to the reporter who had asked the last question. She says, “Levi Combs won an Oscar playing an inmate in For Love. Now it looks like he may play one in real life. Back to you in the studio.”
The show switches back to the entertainment host in the studio. “Once again, another case of life imitating art. We’ll be sure to keep you updated on the details as they unfold.”
Levi sits up, picking up the half-empty bottle of vodka resting on the floor next to the couch. After chugging two mouthfuls, he puts the bottle on the glass table in front of him next to an open plastic sandwich bag of cocaine. A coated three-inch pink straw is immersed in the powder. He picks up the bag and fishes out the straw. Not even bothering to dump any on the table, he buries the straw in the bag and inhales once, then another time in the other nostril, tossing the bag and straw back on the table. He snags the bottle and paces in the dark room, gulping vodka with each trip back and forth. Drops of sweat form on his forehead, adding to the layer of oil already coating his face.
The buzzer for the front gate sounds. Assuming it’s the female companionship he ordered, he opens the gate with the remote and doesn’t bother to check the monitor. Putting the bottle down, he grabs five hundreds from a pile of bills scattered across the table and hurries to the door and out onto the front steps. A police car drives through the gate. Levi turns and scampers back into the house. Leaning against the door, he considers his options. He knows they saw him, so hiding in the house won’t work. He fetches the bottle of vodka, lifting it to his lips and searching for the answer in the bottom. Hearing a car door slam, he rushes to the security monitor to the right of the door and watches the two police officers, a male in his forties and an upper-twenties female, exit the car and walk to the front. He hears their footsteps on the brick walk and opens the door before they ring the bell. “How can I help you, officers?”
The male officer notices Levi’s rough appearance, scanning him up and down. “Levi Combs, we have a warrant for your arrest for violation of California Penal Code 261.5, unlawful sexual intercourse with a minor.”
Levi shakes his head. “Are you fucking kidding me? This is ridiculous. I want to talk to my lawyer.”
“You’ll have your chance once we get to the station,” the younger female officer says. “Will you please step outside and put your hands behind your back?”
Levi just stares back at her. “Is this really necessary?”
The male officer looks at Levi’s casual attire and unkempt appearance. “Maybe you’d like us to come in while you change or at least get some shoes?”
Levi is not about to invite the officers in with a gun, cash, and drugs strewn across his coffee table, let alone what is in the freezer if they start poking around. Stepping outside, he puts his hands behind his back. “No, let’s just get this over with.
The female officer handcuffs Levi and leads him to the car, reciting his rights. The officers get in the front seat and turn the flashers on but not the sirens. The car drives back through the gate through a swarm of paparazzi, all trying for a picture of Levi in the back seat. To avoid the coveted close-up, Levi topples over on his side and buries his face into the seat. No way he was going to make one of the photographers’ years with a photo of this.
The officers take Levi to the Metro Detention Center Jail downtown since the DA filed the charges in Los Angeles. All the major news and entertainment media outlets have already assembled when they arrive. Additional officers form two lines to create a walkway from the street to the entranceway. When they pull the barefoot and sodden Levi from the back of the car, flashes and questions erupt, mixing with the one hundred and eight bronze bells chiming in the Sook Jin Jo art installation in front of the entrance. The tolls, intended to dispel defilements leading to suffering, are the only calming tones in the chaos. Tuning out the despoiling discord, Levi peers over at the bells as he walks by. Engraved in the metal clappers are words like integrity, dignity, reverence—all things he once had but lost.
Once Levi is safely inside, Marcus struts over. “Levi Combs, you have been read your rights and notified of the charges being brought against you—”
Levi doesn’t allow Marcus to finish. “Lawyer.”
“For violation of—”
“Lawyer.”
“You will have an opportunity to contact your legal representation after you have been booked.”
“This is such bullshit,” Levi says, glaring at Marcus. “You’ll be lucky to have a job when this is over. You’ll spend the rest of your career in traffic court.”
Marcus turns away, uncomfortable Levi might recognize him. He’s so close to seeing all his work payoff. He can’t risk being taken off the case and someone else coming and pleading it down to a fine and community service. He would’ve liked for more jail time to be on the table, but watching the Oscar debacle and movie flop had been unexpected bonuses, and the very public and embarrassing trial that would ensue and anything else that follows would be additional recompense. He turns to the female officer guiding Levi by his cuffed hands. “Run him through.”
Before the officer can whisk him away, Levi responds again with a one-word answer, but it’s different this time. “Ambrose!” The officer stops, assuming Levi had something to say to Marcus, but it was a realization not a request.
Hearing his name, Marcus instinctively stops and looks back at Levi expecting a question, but seeing the look on Levi’s face, he knows Levi has finally made the connection. Wanting to avoid a confrontation, he turns to walk away. This is supposed to happen after, in the courtroom or at the prison, He was supposed to be the one to tell Levi and watch the realization settle in. But instead, it’s happening here and now, whether Marcus likes it or not. He steps back toward Levi, silent and stern.
“You’re the little brother,” Levi says, the memories tumbling back. “I knew I recognized you. You’re Tamm—Tamara’s little brother.”
Marcus remains quiet, knowing his words could also be used to get him removed. He just stares back, smirking.
“Wait. This is about her? You blame me for what happen-ed?” Levi lunges toward Marcus.
The officer yanks Levi back by the cuffs, dragging him toward the door to central booking. “That’s enough, Combs. Let’s go.”
Levi fights back toward Marcus. “You have to believe me. I tried to help her, but she wouldn’t stop.” The other officer steps between them and helps corral Levi toward the door. Levi yells over top of him. “I hope it’s worth it. You’re done. I should thank you. Wait until I call my lawyers. They’re going to chew you up. This case will be thrown out before you fall asleep tonight.”
Marcus walks toward Levi as the officers force him through the door. Still under control and not wanting to provide any additional ammunition, he whispers to himself, “Nothing is ever your fault, is it Combs?”
On the other side of the door, Levi doesn’t even have to call his lawyer. A contingency of representation shows up before the mugshot flashes dimmed. Once they speak to Levi, there are decrees of harassment, motions for dismissal, and petitions for release without bail. In the end, Levi is out in just under three hours, but not because the charges are dropped. It’s due to the fifty-thousand-dollar bail that the law firm puts up for him.
Chapter 20
At Art on Traction, the gallery owner and a younger female employee hang a picture showing a mountain wild fire from the hydraulic lift on the right. An ombré of white to black smoke rises from the red and yellow streaks devouring the luscious green trees and shrubs blanketing a mountain slope. Eva wa
lks through one of the open garage doors studying the new work. The younger female employee strolls over to greet her. Before any words are exchanged, Eva smiles and points at the gallery owner, who has her back to them, adjusting the wildfire picture. Eva walks up next to her, admiring the active flame ripping up the side of the mountain. Eva says, “How can something so beautiful be so destructive?”
The gallery owner, not realizing anyone was standing next to her, glances over, straightening in surprise. “These are all of Zaca. It absolutely gutted the San Rafael Mountains, northeast of the Santa Ynez Valley in Santa Barbara for months. Over two hundred and forty thousand acres destroyed. At the time, it was the second largest fire in recorded history. Now I think it’s fourth or fifth. Just sad how these things are becoming so commonplace and getting worse.” She looks again at Eva, her eyes traveling from top to bottom and back up. “Oh, it’s you. I didn’t recognize you at first. Eve, right?”
“Ev-a,” she says, offering her hand. The gallery owner leans in, taking Eva by the shoulder, touching her cheek to Eva’s and kissing. Eva says, “Wasn’t sure you’d remember me.”
“It’s my business to know people.” The gallery owner shuffles back a few steps analyzing the picture with the others hanging from the lift. “You know, this fire was started by someone repairing a water pipe? How ironic is that?”
Eva slides back next to her. “I remember watching it on the news as the firefighters worked on land and in the air to turn it away from that community.”
“Paradise Road was the name of the community,” the gall-ery owner says. “We have a great shot of that on the other side.”
Eva scans the gallery, looking at the work on display, all of which is quite different from the last time she was there. “A new show already? Or did you sell all of Gabe’s stuff?”
The gallery owner scrunches her nose as if smelling something foul. Motioning toward the sitting area, she says, “A bit of an unfortunate situation, I’m afraid.” Eva follows, sitting next to her on the small sofa. The gallery owner says, “I had the most unusual request from a very well-known, wealthy client willing to buy a large collection of other works if I stopped showing Gabe’s work.” She fidgets in her seat, still uncomfortable with her decision. “Of course, I didn’t want to do it, but I didn’t really have much choice, you see. I am running a business here.” The gallery owner perks up suddenly, tapping Eva on the knee excitedly. “You know what? I’m not sure what happened between you two that night, but if you’re still interested, I can put you in touch with him. If nothing else, I’m sure he’d love to sell you a picture or two.”
