Molly drummed her fingers on the coffee shop table, her half-empty latte growing cold as she studied the birthday party invitation they'd swiped from the mailbox. Bill sat across from her, methodically destroying a blueberry muffin while leaving a trail of crumbs in his neatly trimmed beard. "So let me get this straight," Molly said, "little Timmy Thompson is having his seventh birthday party this Saturday, and you want us to rob it?" "Not rob it, exactly." Bill brushed muffin debris from his shirt. "Just redistribute the wealth, if you will." "These are children's presents we're talking about, Bill. Even for us, that's pretty low." "Have you seen the guest list? Twenty-five kids from Riverbrook Elementary. That's the fancy private school where they serve organic quinoa at lunch. These aren't just any presents – we're talking premium stuff." Molly leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "And your brilliant plan is to pose as party entertainers?" "I've already got the clown suits in my car." "Of course you do." Bill reached across the table and tapped the invitation. "Look, while I'm making balloon animals and telling horrible jokes, you slip upstairs where they're storing the presents. Simple in and out job." "Nothing's ever simple with you, Bill. Remember the Christmas parade incident?" "That was different. How was I supposed to know the Santa suit was flammable?" Molly sighed and took a sip of her cold coffee. "What's our exit strategy?" "That's the beautiful part," Bill said, grinning. "I've got a cake rigged with smoke bombs. When I give the signal, boom – chaos ensues, parents grab their precious offspring, and we disappear in the confusion with all the good stuff." "You want to terrorize small children with explosives?" "Harmless smoke bombs. They'll think it's part of the show. Kids love that stuff." "And what about the birthday boy?" "Already handled. I got him a replacement present – the deluxe edition of that video game everyone's talking about." "Since when did you develop a conscience?" Bill shrugged. "Hey, even thieves have standards. Besides, the kid's parents are divorcing. He deserves something nice." Molly studied her partner's face for a moment, then grabbed the invitation. "Fine. But I get to pick my clown name, and if you make me do that stupid balloon dog trick again, I'm out." "Deal. Though I still say your balloon poodles look more like deformed giraffes." "Shut up and finish your muffin. We need to go shopping for oversized shoes." "Already got those too." "Of course you do." Molly stood up, gathering her things. "Just promise me one thing – no juggling. The last thing we need is another ER visit because you tried to impress kids with flaming pins." Bill placed his hand over his heart. "Scout's honor." "You were never a scout." "True, but I did steal their manual once. That counts for something, right?"