Molly adjusted her oversized sunglasses and peered through the hedge at the balloon-festooned house. The sound of shrieking children and a painfully cheerful rendition of "Happy Birthday" drifted across the manicured lawn. She lowered her binoculars and turned to Bill, who was inexplicably wearing a full clown costume. "What the hell are you wearing?" "It's called blending in," Bill said, honking his red nose for emphasis. "I'll be invisible." "You're six-foot-four in rainbow suspenders. You're about as invisible as a fire truck." "Fire trucks are red. This wig is orange. Totally different." Molly rubbed her temples. Twenty years of pulling jobs together, and Bill still managed to surprise her with new depths of stupidity. She consulted her notebook, which contained detailed reconnaissance from the past week. "Okay, listen up. The birthday boy is Timmy Henderson, age seven. His dad owns that chain of luxury car dealerships, and his mom just inherited a fortune from her oil tycoon uncle." "So they're loaded." "Loaded enough to hire a real elephant for this party." "There's an elephant?" "Focus, Bill. The presents are being stored in the pool house. I counted at least forty boxes going in there this morning, including what looked like a kids' ATV and possibly a small boat." "A boat? What kind of seven-year-old needs a boat?" "The kind whose parents have more money than sense. Now, the party runs until four. That gives us a two-hour window to get in, load up the van, and get out before anyone notices." Bill scratched under his wig, dislodging several orange curls. "What about security?" "One bored teenager checking invitations at the front. But here's the beautiful part - there's a bouncy castle delivery scheduled for 2:30. They forgot to cancel the first one when they upgraded to the deluxe model." "So?" "So we're the delivery guys. I've got uniforms in the van." "But I'm already dressed as a clown." "Which is why you're on lookout duty." A piercing scream erupted from the backyard, followed by splashing and more screaming. Molly and Bill exchanged glances. "Think someone fell in the pool?" "Probably. Rich kids are terrible swimmers. All that gold weighs them down." They retreated to their van, which Molly had painted with "Bodacious Bounce Incorporated" on the side that morning. Bill struggled out of his clown shoes while Molly checked her equipment list: dollies, moving blankets, and a cooler full of juice boxes. "Why the juice boxes?" "Bribes. Kids are easily corrupted." "That's dark, Mol." "Says the man planning to steal from seven-year-olds." "When you put it like that, it sounds bad." "It is bad. That's why we're criminals." Bill considered this logic and nodded sagely. "Fair point." As they prepared for the heist, neither noticed the actual bouncy castle delivery truck pulling up behind them, nor the confused driver checking his clipboard. In the distance, the elephant trumpeted, a sound that would haunt their dreams for weeks to come.