Molly drummed her fingers on the cheap diner table, leaving smudges in the grease. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as Bill shoveled another forkful of pie into his mouth. "You can't be serious about this," Molly said, glancing around to make sure no one was within earshot. "A kid's birthday party?" Bill wiped cherry filling from his chin. "Think about it. Rich neighborhood, dozens of expensive presents, minimal security. It's perfect." "It's depraved is what it is." "Since when did you develop a conscience? Last month you helped me steal a nun's car." Molly leaned forward, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "That nun was running an illegal gambling ring and you know it. These are children's presents we're talking about." The waitress appeared with more coffee, and they sat in tense silence until she wandered away. Bill pulled out his phone and slid it across the table, showing Molly a social media post. "Look at this. Little Timothy Winchester's seventh birthday bash. His dad's the CEO of that tech startup that just went public. These aren't going to be dollar store presents." "I'm looking at the bouncy castle," Molly said. "And the petting zoo. And the professional face painter. This isn't exactly going to be a quiet job." Bill grinned. "That's the beauty of it. Chaos is coverage. Nobody's going to notice us slipping in and out while there's a clown making balloon animals and thirty sugar-rushed kids running around screaming." "You've really thought this through, haven't you?" "I even got us costumes." Bill reached under the table and pulled up a backpack, unzipping it just enough to reveal bright polyester. "We're going as party entertainers. I'm thinking you could juggle." "I absolutely cannot juggle." "Perfect. That'll add to the confusion." Molly took a long sip of coffee, considering. "What about the parents? They'll be watching everything like hawks." "They'll be too busy taking pictures for Instagram. Trust me, I cased three birthday parties last weekend. The parents are always on their phones." "You spent three weekends at children's parties? That's disturbing on multiple levels." Bill shrugged. "Research is research. So are you in?" Molly stared at her coffee cup for a long moment. "If we do this – and I'm not saying we will – we're leaving the handmade presents. Anything that looks like it came from grandma or was made with macaroni, we don't touch it." "Deal. Those aren't worth anything anyway." "And we donate ten percent to the children's hospital." "Five percent." "Eight, and I'll wear the stupid costume." Bill extended his hand across the table. "Deal. Saturday at two. I'll pick you up in the van." "The van better not say 'Free Candy' on the side." "Please," Bill scoffed, finishing his pie. "Give me some credit. It says 'Professional Party Services.'" Molly dropped her head into her hands. "We're definitely going to hell for this." "Probably," Bill agreed cheerfully. "But we'll be going with really nice stolen toys."