Drama at the Chief Constable’s Birthday Gathering

“Is everything to your satisfaction?” Charles Thompson, the owner of the Golden Pheasant; the five star luxury hotel in Upper Strangling, Lower Strangling’s more commercialised neighbour, asked Warwickshire Police’s Chief Constable Stuart Kennedy whilst looking at a buffet full of high quality food.

“Yes. Everything is top quality as it always is, Charles,” Stuart said.

“Oh, please. You’re too kind.” Charles said. “Well, in that case, I will check up on other guests.”

“Ok, then. Goodbye.” Stuart said.

“Goodbye,” Charles said before walking slowly back into the shadows.

Stuart Kennedy was a regular at the Golden Pheasant, as was everyone high in society in the country, nay the world.

Today the Golden Pheasant was hosting the majority of the Metropolitan Police for Stuart’s 45th birthday party.

Most of the Met’s events in honour of one of their finest officers happened at the Pheasant, mainly because they believed the best only deserved the best.

“None of this meat is Paddy O’Brien’s is it?” Stuart’s assistant Chief Constable Harvey Nichols asked Stuart.

“I don’t think so. I specifically told Charles not to use it. But also he wouldn’t allow cheap frozen food from the local supermarket anywhere near his hotel. Only the finest high quality meat direct from the farm will do.” Stuart said. “Now, if you’d excuse me, I’d like to catch up with some old friends.”

“Sure,” Harvey said, before talking to a police officer from Cheshire Constabulary who he only met at police networking events.

Just then, Tom Freeman, the Commissioner of Metropolitan Police, tapped his glass in order to get everyone else’s attention.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please,” Tom said.

The room was stunned into silence.

“Can Stuart come up here, please?” Tom said.

Stuart then went up and stood next to Tom.

“We are gathered here today, to celebrate one of, if not the best police officer the Met has ever known; Stuart Kennedy.” Tom said.

The audience applauded Stuart, who humbly acknowledged them.

“I still remember the day he was transferred up here. ‘No’, we said, ‘he can’t be’. But oh he did, much to dismay of his colleagues in London,” Tom said.

To that the audience laughed.

“But he has done a lot during his time as Chief Constable of Warwickshire Police, mainly dealing with notified Irish criminal Patrick O’Brien after he tried to escape Child Sex Offence charges in Ireland by coming to England.” Tom said.

“Except he didn’t,” said a cold Irish voice.

The crowd gasped at Patrick O’Brien himself walked into the room. Tom was forced to stop his speech.

“Instead, he allowed me to suffer for several years at the hands of Dr Scamander Trout. Now I’m worse than ever.” Patrick said.

“You know full well that was your own choice. We decided to compromise as you were so averted to prison time.” Stuart said.

Patrick walked slowly into the room. Several officers held out their tasers in self defence.

“Dr Trout was your suggestion. There are plenty of other psychiatrists to choose from.” Patrick said.

“I didn’t know what Dr Trout was. All I knew was that he was Oxford educated and very good at his job.” Stuart said.

“He’s right, Patrick.” Harvey said. “We did what we thought was best.”

“Maybe. But now it’s time for me to do what I think it’s best.” Patrick said before taking out a sharp knife.

The other officers gasped in horror as Patrick walked towards Stuart with the knife.

“You don’t have to do this.” Stuart said. “Think about how this will affect your career.”

“Screw my career, this is for me.” Patrick said before lunging to Stuart.

Several other police officers ran to Patrick and grabbed him before he could get to Stuart.

“Good one, gents!” Stuart said.

“Anything for you, Stu, anything for you,” one of Stuart’s friends from City of London Police said.

With that, Patrick O’Brien was finally placed in handcuffs.

“Well, Patrick. It’s time to take you to a place I should have taken you 15 years ago.” Stuart said.

“Take him away, boys,” Tom said.

“No! No!” Patrick said, struggling as he was taken out of the room. “This isn’t the last time you’ve heard of me, Kennedy! I shall return!”

“I look forward to it.” Stuart said as Patrick disappeared from views. “Now then, where were we?”

With that, Stuart’s birthday party continued without a hitch.

“I am so sorry for what has happened,” Charles Thompson later said to Stuart outside the Golden Pheasant as Patrick was taken to the station in a police. “I will make sure to check who else enters the hotel the next time you have an event here.”

“It’s fine. It’s not your fault. Besides, I don’t think he’ll be bothering us for sometime.” Stuart said.

When Patrick was taken away, the other police officers went home.

“Some birthday that turned out to be,” Irene, Stuart’s wife, later said to him as they got ready for bed.

“I know.” Stuart said. “But at least no one got hurt.”

“Yeah,” Irene said, “I suppose Patrick O’Brien finally being in prison where he belongs is something.”

“He’s only being detained. But yes, at least he can’t harm us for a while.” Stuart said.

“Well, goodnight, dear,” Irene said. “We’ll do something nice for your birthday tomorrow instead, to make up for it.”

“That will be nice,” Stuart said, before wishing his wife goodnight and turning off the light.

And so, one of the best police officer’s England had ever known went to sleep, ready for another action packed day of crime fighting in the morning.

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