Molly leaned against the worn velvet counter, her eyes locked on the grainy surveillance footage cued up on the laptop in front of her. Bill slid into the booth opposite, snagging the dregs of a cold coffee from the saucer. "What's the play?" Bill asked, voice low and even. "Five o'clock, party's in full swing. Kids are distracted by the magician, or what passes for one in Pigeon Creek. You create a diversion, I slip in the back and start making the rounds." Bill raised an eyebrow. "You think the birthday boy's mom is going to notice you digging through the presents?" "No, not her. The other moms. They'll be too busy judging the balloon animal guy to notice anything. And the poor schmuck who's trying to make balloon animals is going to be too busy haggling with the DJ to notice me either." "What about the presents themselves?" Bill's hands drummed a staccato beat on the table. "How many are we looking at?" "According to the invite, the birthday boy's turned the big three—zero. My sources say there'll be around two dozen gifts, give or take. Nothing too crazy, but enough to make this worth our while. We'll hit the lower end of the tree first, snag the easier scores." Bill snorted. "Easy scores? You wound me, Molly. You think a bunch of crap from Babies 'R Us is an easy score?" "It's all about the markup," Molly retorted, unfurling a sheaf of blueprints. "Toys are cheap, resale is where the real money is. Trust me, we'll be raking in the cash before they even start recouping the playset costs." Bill scowled, but said nothing, snagging another piece of stale pastry from the plate between them. "What about the security?" he asked, eyes glinting. "I've got it covered. I know the party planner from the old days. She owes me one, let's just say. Security cameras will be pointed at the front doors, the DJ will be in the corner, and the whole shebang will be strolled across by the birthday boy's partying aunt – if she remembers to show up." "Sounds solid," Bill said finally, peeling off the plastic wrap of a nearby donut. "What's the real plan, Molly?" "Don't get all conspiratorial on me, Bill. I told you – create a diversion, get in, snag the presents, and out before anyone knows what's going down." The pastry sat uneaten as Bill's gaze turned thoughtful. "We should do it later. Weather's supposed to clear up by six. It's going to be too much of a bust otherwise." Molly tossed the blueprints down onto the table with a dismissive flick of her wrist. "Kids have great timing, Bill. Parties only happen when the system's in gridlock. We'll get our loot, and we'll get out, before the weekend revelers come to take over."