Molly spread the blueprint of the birthday boy's house across the kitchen table, anchoring it with a vase of wilted flowers. Bill, sporting a questionable mustache, leaned in to study the layout. "Okay, so the party's on Saturday at two. Kids and parents swarm the backyard. We slip in through the open garage door, grab what we can from the gift table, and make a break for the fence." "Sounds simple," Bill said, tapping the paper with his index finger. "What's the haul look like?" "According to the Evite, we're looking at a minimum of twenty-five kids, plus the birthday boy. Let's say at least fifty gifts, maybe more." Bill's eyes lit up. "Cha-ching." Molly shot him a look. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We still need to get past the entertainment." "Ah, the clown. I hate clowns." "Yeah, me too. But I've got an idea. We dress up as the clown's assistants and blend in." Bill's expression brightened. "I can wear my bright orange wig." Molly's eyes rolled. "Yeah, that's exactly what I had in mind."