Molly drummed her fingers against the steering wheel of the van, her eyes fixed on the colorful decorations strung up around the suburban house across the street. Bill, slumped in the passenger seat, sipped from a Starbucks cup, his attention on the tablet propped up on his lap. "Okay, let's go over this again," Molly said. "We've got a birthday party for little Timmy, age eight. Invite-only, but we managed to snag a copy of the guest list. Fifty kids, fifteen adults, and one very nervous-looking clown." Bill raised an eyebrow. "Why a clown?" "Because Timmy loves clowns," Molly said. "Apparently, he's got a clown-themed cake, clown decorations, the works. We're going to blend right in." Bill whistled. "You know how many coulrophobes are going to be at that party?" "I know exactly how many," Molly said. "Seven." Bill shrugged. "Fair enough. What's the haul looking like?" "From what I can gather, most of the guests have been told to bring a gift worth around twenty bucks. The parents, however, have been instructed to bring something 'special.' We're talking robots, dolls, Legos, all the good stuff." "And how do we plan on getting our hands on all of it?" "Well, that's where the clown comes in," Molly said. "We'll pose as party staff, help the clown with some of the activities, then slip in when nobody's looking and make off with the presents." Bill shook his head. "You're going to fit all those presents in the van?" Molly grinned. "Leave that to me. I've been working on a new trick, one that's going to change the game. Trust me, Bill, we're going to clean up." "And what about security?" Bill asked. "You said there'd be parents there. Won't they notice something's up?" "Parents are the easiest marks of all," Molly said. "They're too busy socializing, checking their phones, and making sure their kids aren't eating too much sugar to pay attention to what's going on. We're going to blend in, have some cake, maybe even sing 'Happy Birthday' a few times. By the time people start to get suspicious, we'll be long gone." Bill rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "And what about the clown?" "He's in on it," Molly said. "Well, not