The Dead Ex

by Jane Corry

‘No. That’s not true.’

  But I can see the seed of doubt has been planted in the jurors’ minds.

  I take a sip of water. My knees will barely hold me up. I’m not sure how much more I can take of this. And then I see him.

  It can’t be. I have to be imagining this, just as I imagined him going up the escalator that time. My mind has to be playing tricks. This man, who is the spitting image of my ex-husband, is sidling up to the prosecution bench and whispering to the team. One of them passes a note to the barrister examining me. Her face tightens.

  ‘Mrs Goudman, do you recognize this man who has just come in?’

  I begin to shake violently. ‘He looks like my ex-husband.’

  ‘Louder please – with his precise name.’

  ‘David Goudman. My ex-husband.’

  As I speak, he looks directly at me. There is no doubt this time. Where the hell has he been?

  The jury is electrified.

  ‘Why are you so surprised and shocked?’

  Anger and relief burst out of my mouth. ‘Because he’s finally turned up, of course.’

  ‘I suggest that the real reason is that you are now face to face with the man you have been stalking for months.’

  ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘I also suggest that you hoped to get him back. Is that correct?’

  ‘Sometimes,’ I whisper. ‘Sometimes not.’

  ‘But Tanya Goudman was the one person standing in your way. So you killed her.’

  ‘No!’

  The court is in uproar. The judge asks for the jury to be sent out and calls for the prosecution and defence barristers to approach him.

  David is looking up at me with a concerned – but also smug – expression. He has finally got me.

  54

  Helen

  David is here? I don’t know whether to be relieved or angry. He looks older. Thinner. Not nearly as good-looking. I try to compose myself during the break. Someone near me is saying in a loud voice that the lawyers need to discuss something with the judge. (I don’t get all this court stuff.) Eventually, the jury is called back in. According to my neighbour, who seems to know what’s going on, the judge must have permitted the prosecution to reopen its case and call David as a witness.

  ‘Would you like to tell the court where you have been since the end of January?’ asks the prosecution barrister.

  He rubs his chin, the way he did that very first time I saw him. ‘I needed some space.’

  ‘Were you aware that many people had the impression that you were missing, presumed dead?’

  ‘I’m sorry for that.’ David speaks entirely to the jury. He has that charming look on: the one that allowed him to get away with so much. ‘May I be honest here?’

  ‘I would hope so,’ interrupted the judge. ‘You are under oath.’

  David makes an of course gesture. ‘The thing is that I went abroad to get away because I had some problems in my personal life. I went to a retreat. I needed to find myself and get some peace.’

  That’s rich, from a man who failed to give me support when I needed it.

  Then David puts his head down. His voice comes out as a sob. ‘I never thought that my poor wife would be murdered while I was away. I loved her as much as life itself.’

  Bastard! My mind goes back to the last time I saw him. The morning of the day he’d ‘disappeared’. The day I’d told him I was pregnant. How terrifying he’d looked. But now it seems as though he has everyone eating out of his hand. At least I know Mum had nothing to do with his disappearance now. I feel bad for even thinking it. But what on earth is going to happen next?

  55

  Vicki

  David. Alive and well. How can this be?

  I think back to the night of 31 January. I’d been at home, just as I’d told the police. I’d finished treating a client and was curled up on the sofa, watching an old Meg Ryan film on television. It had just got to the bit where she finally gets to be with the man she’d always loved and I was suddenly filled with a terrible cold emptiness. David had behaved appallingly towards me but I still, for some inexplicable reason, missed him. I couldn’t help imagining a different future where we’d stayed happily married and had children together. So I did it again. I rang his mobile in order to hear his voice on the answerphone. I knew my number would come up on his screen and that he wouldn’t pick it up. He didn’t the first time. But then I tried again, seconds later. And this time he did.

  ‘Please, Vicki.’ His voice had sounded weary and tired. There was noise in the background as if he was in a busy place. ‘Just leave it, will you?’

  ‘I can’t,’ I stutter.

  ‘Well, after tonight, you won’t get hold of me again. So you might as well stop bothering.’

  What was he talking about? I’d almost rung the police there and then. It even passed through my mind that I should call Tanya. But David wasn’t the kind of person who’d kill himself. He was too ambitious. So full of self-belief. I decided he was being melodramatic, trying to get rid of me.

  Then he disappeared. I thought back to that noisy call. Had he been at a station or an airport? From then on I tried to tell myself it must be something to do with his dodgy deals.

  Nevertheless, I threw away my phone and bought another. Just in case. Thank God I did that or the police might have traced my calls. I was too scared to tell them the truth in case they held me responsible for his disappearance. Later, when he’d been gone for months, I began to fear that he really had killed himself.

  Now it looks as though my original instinct was correct. He’d simply gone AWOL. I listen to my ex-husband with a mixture of hatred and admiration. He always was so convincing.

  Still, at least the police can no longer suspect me of his murder. Then the thought strikes me. What if David had something to do with Tanya’s death?

  The prosecutor is still questioning him. ‘Why didn’t you come back earlier? Weren’t you aware that your wife had been murdered?’

  He rubs his jaw. His voice is raw. ‘I only found out recently, after leaving the retreat.’

  ‘Did your wife Tanya know where you were?’

  ‘I’m afraid I told no one. Not even my daughter. I’d been going through a lot of stress in my personal life, as I said. When I was well enough to come back to the UK, I saw the headlines about the case in the newspaper at the airport. It’s why I’m here.’ Then my skin chills as he looks straight up at me in the dock.

  ‘I believe that my ex-wife is responsible for Tanya’s death.’

  ‘That’s not true!’ I yell.

  As I speak, the defence lawyer leaps up to object to David’s comment and the judge agrees, telling the jury to ignore it. He also orders my lawyer to keep his client quiet.

  David seems unrepentant. ‘My ex-wife was violent.’

  ‘I was not!’

  ‘This is your final warning, Mrs Goudman,’ says the judge.

  The defence again leaps up to object about the violent bit. ‘No,’ says the judge. ‘Let’s see where this is going.’

  David looks pleased. ‘Vicki used to hit me during arguments. It’s one of the reasons our marriage broke up.’

  ‘He’s lying,’ I want to yell.

  ‘So it wasn’t because you were having an affair with Tanya, then your secretary?’

  He shrugs. ‘That only started because my wife was impossible to live with. I’m not proud of being unfaithful, but there you are. Vicki, however, couldn’t accept it. She would keep ringing me because she said she missed my voice. She even called me at the airport on the night that I went to the retreat. I can prove it with my phone records.’

  I put my head in my hands. This bit I can’t deny.

  ‘Every time she moved, she sent me her address. I’d keep it just in case I needed to contact the police. It was my insurance policy in case she attacked me. Then someone else would know where she was. She used to follow me all the time.’ He rubs his eyes. ‘It really upset my poor Tanya.’

/>   There’s a hushed silence in the court.

  The prosecuting barrister is handing him a photograph. ‘Do you recognize this?’

  ‘Yes. It was taken by a photographer I was having a business meeting with. A woman called Helen Evans who was a work experience student at my company.’

  David looks uneasy. Was he having an affair with her? I knew all too well what his ‘business meetings’ usually meant.

  ‘Can you confirm who this woman in the photo is?’

  David frowns. ‘It’s Vicki. Which only goes to prove my point about her stalking me.’ He faces the jury. ‘It’s why I came rushing here as soon as I saw that headline. My ex-wife murdered Tanya out of jealousy. And she should pay for it …’

  ‘We’re not here to speculate,’ cuts in the judge.

  But I can’t help thinking that the damage is done.

  56

  Helen

  The judge calls a brief adjournment.

  I nip outside for some fresh air, keeping my head down in case anyone from the office is there. I hadn’t expected the barrister to mention Helen Evans by name. Luckily there’s a hat stall outside. Swiftly buying the cheapest – a dull black that won’t stand out – I yank it down over my forehead. Still, it’s not like I’ve done something wrong.

  Apart from not saying I was at the scene of the murder.

  Of course, I could have told the court myself that Vicki had killed Tanya. But it would have meant admitting that Mum and I were at the Goudmans’ house too.

  Not that it should have worked out that way.

  It was at the end of March when Mum declared she had a ‘brilliant idea’.

  ‘You could ring Vicki Goudman to make an appointment. Tell her you need some aromatherapy for … I don’t know … sleeping better or something like that. I’ll come down with you.’

  ‘Then what?’

  She shrugged. ‘We’ll play it by ear.’

  Yes, said Vicki Goudman when I rang. She’d be delighted to see me. In fact she had a cancellation at 9 a.m. for 1 April.

  April Fool’s Day.

  I had a bad feeling about that. ‘By the way,’ I said. ‘I’m pregnant. Is it still all right to have treatment?’

  ‘We’ll need to avoid certain oils but we can go through all that during the consultation. Now what’s your name?’

  ‘Helen Evans.’

  I was nervous. Mum was so unpredictable. ‘You’re not going to hurt her, are you?’ I whispered.

  ‘Course not.’ Her eyes opened wide. ‘What do you think I am? Just want to get a few things off my chest, that’s all. Give her a piece of my mind.’

  Mum had dressed up as though we were going to a fancy tea party, with a flowery skirt from Sue Ryder and a velvet sequinned handbag over her shoulder. I’d bought it for her from the market at a reduced price because it was slightly torn, but she paraded around in it like a child in a birthday outfit. Still, maybe that was understandable after years of having to wear prison clothes.

  We took the Paddington ‘Riviera Express’ down to Cornwall on the night before the appointment, dozing on and off in our seats as we couldn’t afford a sleeper. Mum had this strange grin on her face when we woke up. ‘I can’t wait for this,’ she said over and over again, rubbing her hands with excitement. The other passengers gave us odd looks. As we reached Penzance, I checked my phone. There was a text from Vicki. It had been sent last night but I hadn’t noticed it.

  Sorry but I have to cancel for personal reasons. I’ll be in touch shortly to arrange another appointment.

  ‘Fuck,’ said Mum loudly when I showed it to her. A woman opposite threw us a disapproving glare. ‘So we’ve come all the way down here for nothing.’

  Yet part of me was relieved. Maybe there was another way we could pay Vicki back without Mum needing to see her. It was too dangerous in Mum’s unpredictable state. But as we got off the train at Penzance, Mum nudged me in the ribs. ‘Look. That’s her on the platform over there. It’s our lucky day. Quick. We’ll follow her.’

  Shit. Mum was already rushing ahead, leaping on the return train. At every station we watched to see if she was getting off. But she stayed put. All the way back to Paddington again. ‘Stick with me,’ Mum instructed. ‘We can’t let her out of our sight.’

  It was when Vicki Goudman took the Wimbledon-bound Tube and then changed that I suspected where she was going. ‘Kingston,’ I whispered. ‘David talked about that. It’s where he lived with Tanya when he wasn’t in central London.’

  Mum was good at tailing. We stayed close enough not to lose our quarry but sufficiently far away so as not to be noticed. Eventually, Vicki turned down a pretty tree-lined side road and then headed for a house on the right behind a tall hedge.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ breathed Mum as we peeped round.

  I did a double-take too. David and Tanya lived in the poshest place I’d ever seen, with a sports car parked outside a triple garage. There was an alarm box on the front, large diamond-paned windows. Vicki was just walking through a gate at the side of the house, which looked as though it led to a back garden.

  ‘What do you think she’s doing here?’ I asked.

  ‘We won’t know if we just stay here, will we?’

  ‘But they’ll see us.’

  ‘Don’t you get it? This is a heaven-sent opportunity. We can tell this Tanya that her husband’s got you up the spout at the same time. Maybe she’ll give us some money even if he won’t.’

  ‘But what about Vicki …’

  Too late. Mum had gone on ahead.

  Round the back, there were big open patio doors leading to a conservatory. I could see Vicki and Tanya inside. Next to this cool sunbed. Quickly, we hid behind a bush.

  ‘If we get into trouble, do a runner through there,’ Mum whispered, indicating a wooden gate at the end of the garden.

  ‘Let’s leave now. Please.’

  But she was peeping round. I did the same.

  They were arguing fiercely. I could hear the anger, though not the actual words. Then suddenly they flew at each other.

  Oh my God. Vicki and Tanya were wrestling. There was a hollow crack as Tanya’s head hit a table.

  ‘Go!’ Mum gave me a push. ‘Quick.’

  Through the gate. Past the phone box. Back to the main road. Heart racing. Round the corner. Hide behind a skip.

  I finally dared to look back. Where was Mum? For a second I was terrified she’d been caught. Then she finally came into sight, puffing.

  ‘Fuck. I haven’t run in years.’ Mum grinned. ‘Had to stop a few times to catch my breath. You won’t believe what happened. Looks like Governor Goudman isn’t so good after all.’

  57

  Vicki

  I’m back on the stand, bracing myself for what is to come. My solicitor has admitted to me that she’d told the prosecution about baby Patrick even though I’d asked her not to. ‘I had to, Vicki. I hoped it would get the jury on side.’

  I could make a fuss about this but maybe it’s for the best after all.

  I could also have asked for a longer adjournment or even a retrial after David’s appearance but I just wanted to get the whole thing done with.

  Instead I was recalled to be examined by the defence and now by the prosecution on ‘matters arising’ out of my ex’s evidence.

  ‘You were seen by a neighbour coming out of Tanya’s house on the day that she was murdered,’ says the prosecution barrister. ‘In addition, another neighbour who declined to be named, made an emergency call from a public phone box. Was this indeed you?’

  I am feeling dizzy. There’s a humming in my ears which isn’t good. Please don’t say I’m having a seizure. I need to get this trial over with. ‘I wanted to ask if she knew where David was.’

  ‘Don’t you think she would have said if she did know?’

  ‘I thought she was covering up for him. When my husband and I split up and we were sorting out our various possessions, I found some deeds in his study showing that she was a co-
signatory to a house which had cost millions – rather like the deed which my husband had tried to make me sign towards the end of our marriage. That made me believe she was part of some kind of money-laundering scheme and that she knew he was lying low somewhere. But when I told her that, she flew at me.’

  ‘I see. What did you do next?’

  ‘I think I probably went into self-defence mode.’

  ‘You think?’

  The dizziness is getting worse. ‘It’s hard to recall. Like I said, my medication can affect my memory.’

  ‘How very convenient.’

  ‘I object to that, My Lord.’

  The judge bent his head as if in agreement. ‘Please keep sarcasm out of my court.’

  The barrister apologizes.

  ‘What exactly did you mean when you said you went into self-defence mode?’

  I know this isn’t going to sound good. But it’s the truth. ‘I learned how to look after myself when I was training to be a prison officer.’

  ‘Did you hurt her?’

  ‘Not directly.’

  ‘Please be clearer than that.’

  ‘She … well, she hit her head on a table when I pushed her away.’

  I feel too guilty to look at Penny. I should have told her about this earlier. But I’d hoped to get away without talking about it.

  ‘Rather like when you broke a prisoner’s collar bone and caused neck injuries to another?’

  ‘Maybe,’ I whisper.

  ‘Louder please.’

  ‘Maybe. But I don’t think I hurt her. Not badly.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘She was still talking afterwards. She told me to get out. So I did.’

  ‘Do you also recall strangling her with a chain?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But is it possible you might have forgotten owing to your medication?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Yet you said just now that you forgot things. So how can you be certain?’

  ‘I’m not a murderer.’

  ‘I believe that is for the jury to decide. What did you do with the chain?’