Molly crouched behind the inflatable unicorn castle, peering through a net of tinsel and pastel balloons. The backyard of six-year-old Hannah’s birthday party looked like a candy explosion—gumdrop necklaces strewn on the grass, spinning pinwheels whirling in the breeze, plastic flamingos standing sentry. Bill tiptoed beside her, flashlight clamped between his teeth, knee pads squeaking against the pavement. “Have you tallied the target count?” Molly whispered, scanning the cluster of toddlers cradling frosting-smeared cupcakes. Bill slid a glitter-wrapped gift under his jacket and gave a thumbs-up. “Twelve active players and two on sugar-overload breaks. We’re clear for Operation Sweet Swipe.” Molly checked her digital watch. “The magic show starts in ninety seconds. That’s our window.” As she peered around a plastic lawn chair, Bill’s sneakers betrayed him, skidding into a pile of unicorn headbands. The plastic horns clicked ominously. He froze. “Nice entrance,” Molly murmured, stifling a giggle. Bill brushed shimmering tinsel off his sleeve. “I call it the Elegant Tumble.” The magician droned on about vanishing rabbits, eyes flicking to the handful of neon-clad parents filming on phones. Molly nudged Bill. “When he says ‘Pick a volunteer,’ I toss our smoke bomb disguised as a party popper. You ignite on my count.” Bill nodded, slipping a silver cylinder from his pocket. “Ready to spark pandemonium.” Molly edged toward the gift pile. Wrapping paper fluttered in the wind like confetti snow. She tucked an action figure and a pastel tote into her canvas bag, then paused at the sight of a massive foam cake prop set beside the fence. “Don’t stare. Inhale the sugar, kiddo,” Bill muttered. Molly smirked and signaled. Bill jammed the popper pin, lobbed it at the magician’s table, and ducked behind a lawn flamingo. The popper detonated in a puff of iridescent smoke. A chorus of shrieks split the air as fairy lights winked out. Parents fumbled for phones, toddlers giggled uncontrollably, and the magician yelped, dropping his wand in shock. Molly seized the moment. “Go, go, go!” she hissed. They sprinted to the gift pile. Molly scooped up armfuls of presents: board games, stuffed animals, a particularly loud karaoke microphone. Bill stuffed novelty hats and party favors into every pocket, scooping up a piñata shaped like a dragon. A small voice wailed, “Mommy, they’re stealing my unicorn purse!” Bill glanced back, panting. “Abort? We already have enough booty to supply every sugar-crazed six-year-old in suburbia.” Molly vaulted the fence with surprising agility, bag bulging. “Actually, I think we nailed it.” They paused beneath a flickering streetlamp, the glow revealing ribbons tangled in their hair and frosting smears on their coats. Bill grinned. “Tune in tomorrow when we figure out who’s going to open all these presents on our behalf.” Molly shrugged, hefting her canvas bag. “Let’s celebrate with donuts first. I know a 24-hour shop that caters to desperadoes with cavities.” Bill climbed onto a battered bicycle propped against a tree. “To the getaway ride.” Molly hopped into the sidecar, raising an eyebrow at the neon party hat perched crookedly on Bill’s head. “Next stop, sugar crash central.” They pedaled into the night, leaving behind a backyard of empty chairs, floating balloons, and an epic mystery only two thieves could unravel.