Helen Fields - Perfect Remains - A gripping thriller that will leave you breathless

‘Guest suite,’ he muttered aloud.

In a second, she was bawling like a toddler again. Don’t talk to her, he counselled himself. Silence until the lesson has been given. That was when she began to beg. He’d known she would.

‘Pleath, pleath don’ rape me. Pu’ in the denture. I’ll be good.’ King rotated his head slowly from shoulder to shoulder, working out the tension her pathetic whining had caused. He looked coolly into her eyes. He could reassure her, he supposed. After all, he had no intention of raping her. He wasn’t an animal. Only foul lowlifes who couldn’t get it anywhere else were reduced to rape. Then again, if the prospect scared her sufficiently to induce compliance, why shouldn’t he use the threat as part of his portfolio to help subdue her?

‘Not subdue,’ he whispered. ‘Educate. Damn!’ he shouted. Why was he talking to himself? She’d thrown him off balance with the rape comment. He had to concentrate. King picked up the ruler and hit the bare sole of her left foot, hard. The smacking sound it made was like clean, white light. In his head he counted and made it to four before the screaming began, the myriad of nerve endings taking their time to communicate with her brain. Now he would allow himself to speak.

‘That took longer than I’d anticipated,’ King said. ‘This is what the Germans call Sohlenstreich , quite literally a striking of the soles. An ancient and well-practised form of correction used in cultures across the world. My father taught me about it at quite a young age. He was a gifted educator.’ He snapped the ruler across her other foot. This time Elaine knew what was coming and emitted the scream, if anything, slightly before wood contacted skin. ‘Effective because it’s extremely painful, but leaves few marks or lasting injury. I shall be careful not to break any of the bones in your foot, although sometimes there are accidents.’ He slapped her left foot with the ruler again.

‘As for raping you, get your mind out of the gutter. I am not so needy as to require such base rewards.’ The level of her screaming was becoming intolerable.

‘If you do not stifle that noise,’ he said, punctuating each word with a strike on one foot then the other, ‘I shall not stop!’ Eleven blows in quick succession. More than he’d intended to deal her. She was starting to pull herself together though, eyes wide, watching him, weeping rather than yelling. Her whole body was shaking. It was shock, but she’d come round. The human body was more resilient than the mind.

‘I’m going to ask you some questions to check that you are progressing. If you answer correctly this will end and we can be friends again. Will you let me fit the dentures without fighting me?’ Elaine nodded furiously. ‘Good. And will you drink your protein shakes without fuss?’ More nodding. ‘What was the German word for this form of correction?’ Silence. He raised the ruler into the air.

‘No, no, I’m trying to remember, I’m trying,’ she whispered, her throat coarse. Even without the dentures she was working harder to speak clearly, playing the diligent pupil.

‘You weren’t paying attention, were you, Elaine?’ He slapped the ruler against her right sole, quite lightly he thought, but still she let loose another assault upon his ears. He supposed the pain was increasing with the bruising.

‘Come along, think about it …’

‘I don’t know, I can’t think. Don’t hurt me any more,’ she sobbed.

‘ Sohlenstreich ,’ he shouted, hitting her left foot hard. ‘ Sohlenstreich , say it with me.’ There were more blows, he’d lost count by then but the miracle had happened. She was chanting the word with him, over and over, with each blow to her feet. There was no more crying. Elaine had learned. He felt a burst of joy, close to exultation. The knowledge that he had triumphed, that he’d been right about this all along, was as powerful as he could ever have imagined. He felt a thrumming inside. The first step was complete. He had changed her, brought her closer to perfection, brought her closer to him.

He threw the ruler down and went to her side. ‘Good girl,’ he crooned into her ear, stroking back hair from the mess of tears and sweat that covered her forehead. ‘You’re my sweet girl, aren’t you? That wasn’t so hard. Obedience will be rewarded but you must behave yourself. Understand that I only want what’s best. Let’s move on.’ He decided on leniency, released the cuffs around her ankles and tenderly laid her legs back together on the bed. She drew them into her chest and bit her bottom lip. ‘Look at you, trying so hard to be quiet for me. I’ll put some painkillers into your next drink. They’ll help you sleep.’ He loosened the chains on her arms enough that she could relax.

‘There’s one more thing I want to show you. I think you’ll be pleased.’

Picking up his laptop, he pulled a chair next to her head and sat down so they could see the screen together. He opened a file and brought up a video clip. There was some crackle at the beginning, the picture dark and grainy, but soon the ambient hum died down to reveal a large video screen, a mass of heads marking the bottom of the view.

‘What?’ she whispered. King smiled. The pain in her feet was forgotten already. This would be priceless.

‘Wait a moment,’ he said. ‘You’ll see.’

A church organ struck up the tune of ‘Abide With Me’ and the screen came to life. King watched Elaine’s face as her mother took a seat at the front, dark glasses shielding her, a handkerchief pressed to her mouth. The camera panned slowly round, showing rows of people sombrely dressed, most with their heads bowed, no one talking. Elaine choked a sob back in her throat.

‘I don’t understand,’ she stuttered.

‘Let’s not play dumb,’ King replied, taking her left hand in his and rubbing its back with his thumb. ‘This is your memorial service. The police won’t release your body yet, of course. Who knows how long they’ll hang on to that bag of bones? But this is your grand exit. Your fifteen minutes of fame.’

‘I don’t want to watch any more,’ she said, looking away.

‘But I require you to. I really must insist.’

She didn’t look away again. Elaine Buxton was a fast learner. That was why he’d chosen her.

Her family sat in the front pews. King knew each by name and recited details about them so Elaine could appreciate the depth of his research into her life. It was a tremendous compliment that he’d dedicated so much of his precious time to her. Her cousin, Maureen, did a reading followed by another hymn. After that came a eulogy, delivered beautifully by a man King didn’t know. The man spoke about her when she was younger, a person King didn’t recognise from the description, a tale of a disastrous skiing trip, a girl who worked hard but played harder, private jokes that the world would otherwise never have been party to. Now, it seemed, her life was public property. It had irritated him as he’d filmed. Too many had gathered and the church was full, necessitating the outside screen. The police had been there in droves.

‘A bit flowery, I thought,’ King commented at the end.

‘Michael,’ Elaine said, as if calling from sleep. King pinched her hand roughly.

‘Who was he?’

‘My friend from law school,’ Elaine answered. ‘We lost touch. He moved to New York.’ He glared as tears filled her eyes. She really was insufferable.

‘You should be grateful. How many people get to see and hear the things I brought you? You were respected, loved, admired and you got to hear it all without dying. I liberated you!’

‘Let me go,’ Elaine begged in a hushed voice. ‘I won’t tell anyone. I’ll pretend I have concussion. I don’t think you’re a bad person, just, well, confused.’