Molly drummed her fingers on the sticky diner table, watching Bill devour his third slice of cherry pie. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, matching her growing irritation with her partner's apparent lack of urgency. "Would you put down the fork for five seconds? We need to figure out how to get past the clown," she hissed, sliding a worn birthday party invitation across the table. Bill wiped crimson filling from his chin with a paper napkin. "Relax, Mol. It's just some guy in face paint making balloon animals. Besides, all the adults will be too busy taking pictures of their precious angels to notice us." "That's where you're wrong." Molly leaned forward, lowering her voice. "This isn't just any clown. It's Captain Giggles. He used to work security at the Morgan Museum before he found his 'true calling' making kids laugh." The fork stopped halfway to Bill's mouth, a chunk of crust tumbling back to the plate. "Well, that complicates things." Molly pulled out her phone, showing Bill a picture of an extravagant backyard setup. Swimming pool, bounce house, and a mountain of wrapped presents that made her fingers itch. "Little Madison's parents invited half the neighborhood. We're talking at least thirty kids, which means twice as many presents. High-end stuff too – these people live in Cedar Heights." "That's a lot of gifts to move quickly," Bill mused, finally pushing his plate aside. "What's our window?" "Cake time. Everyone will be gathered around the birthday girl, singing and taking videos. Captain Giggles will be leading the whole thing, which gives us maybe five minutes." Bill scratched his stubbled chin. "We could pose as caterers. I still have those uniforms from the Thompson job." "Too risky. The mom's a party planner – she'll know all the staff." Molly took a sip of her cold coffee and grimaced. "But I've got a better idea. How do you feel about being a magician's assistant?" "No. Absolutely not. Last time I was your assistant, I ended up stuck in that cabinet for two hours." "That was different. This time you just need to create a distraction while I clean out the gift table. One simple trick gone wrong, everyone looks your way, and I slip out the side gate with the goods." Bill groaned, slumping back in the vinyl booth. "Fine. But I want seventy percent of whatever we get from the fence." "Sixty, and I won't tell anyone about how you cried during that cabinet incident." "Deal." Bill flagged down the waitress for more pie. "Just promise me one thing – no sawing me in half this time." Molly grinned, already mentally calculating how many presents she could fit in her van. "No promises. But hey, at least this time there'll be cake." The waitress arrived with another slice of pie, and Molly watched in resignation as her partner dug in. They had twelve hours until showtime, and somewhere in this city, a magician was about to discover his trunk of props had mysteriously vanished. It was going to be one hell of a birthday party.