Molly drummed her fingers on the folding table, studying the birthday party invitation they'd swiped from the mailbox. "A bounce house, Bill. They're getting a bounce house." "Perfect distraction." Bill sketched a crude diagram on a napkin, his coffee going cold beside him. The diner's fluorescent lights flickered overhead. "We hit during musical chairs," Molly said, reaching for Bill's untouched toast. "Parents will be too busy filming their precious angels to notice us slipping into the garage." Bill snatched his toast back. "You really think there's enough high-end loot at a six-year-old's party to make this worth it?" "Did you miss the part where this is happening in Beverly Hills? These kids get iPads as party favors." The waitress passed by, and they hunched closer together. Bill lowered his voice. "What's our exit strategy?" "We dress as clowns," Molly grinned. "Nobody questions clowns carrying big bags at a kid's party." "I hate clowns." "That's why you're going as a mime." Bill dropped his head onto the table with a thud. "I really need new friends."