Molly squinted through the binoculars at the bounce house castle inflating in the Hendersons' backyard. Pink and purple turrets wobbled as the air pump wheezed to life. She lowered the binoculars and turned to Bill, who was testing the elasticity of his clown nose. "Absolutely not," she said. "What? It's perfect camouflage." Bill honked the nose twice. "Nobody suspects the entertainment." "You're forty-seven years old wearing a rainbow wig. Someone's going to suspect something." Bill adjusted his polka-dotted bow tie with wounded dignity. The afternoon sun beat down on their surveillance position behind Mrs. Chen's prized azalea bushes. A string of balloon animals dangled from Bill's belt, twisted into questionable shapes that looked more like crime scene evidence than party favors. "Look, the invite said presents go on the gift table by two-thirty. Party starts at three. That gives us a thirty-minute window." Molly tapped her tablet, where she'd mapped out the Hendersons' backyard with the precision of a military strategist. "We go in at two-forty-five." "Through the side gate?" "Through the side gate. You distract any early arrivals while I load the gifts into the—" She paused. "Is that a unicycle in my van?" "Commitment to the role, Molly. Stanislavski would be proud." "Stanislavski never tried to steal a six-year-old's Power Rangers collection." A car pulled into the Henderson driveway. Mrs. Henderson emerged carrying what appeared to be a three-tier princess cake. Bill's stomach growled audibly. "Focus," Molly hissed. "Remember, we're only taking the presents. No cake. No piñata. And definitely no traumatizing children." "That was one time! How was I supposed to know the Easter Bunny costume would make them cry?" "It was missing an eye and covered in what looked like blood." "Cranberry juice. I told you, I tripped carrying snacks." Molly rubbed her temples. Across the street, more cars began arriving. Parents unloaded children clutching wrapped boxes, gift bags dangling from tiny fists. The present table was filling up nicely. She spotted at least three boxes that screamed expensive electronics. "Here comes a complication," Bill whispered. A security guard wandered into view, positioned near the gift table. He looked about nineteen and was busy scrolling through his phone. "Rent-a-cop," Molly muttered. "Probably the dad's idea. Tom Henderson always was paranoid after someone stole his garden gnomes." "That was also us." "Different career phase." She watched the guard yawn. "Okay, new plan. You'll need to actually perform. Do your balloon animals, keep the guard distracted. I'll come in as a concerned parent looking for my daughter's present. Grab and go." "What if he asks which kid is yours?" "I'll point at someone and cry. Nobody questions a crying mother at a children's party." Bill nodded solemnly, then immediately dropped his juggling pins. They clattered against Mrs. Chen's garden stones. "Maybe," Molly said slowly, "we should reconsider my uncle's casino job instead." "After this one. I already rented the shoes." Bill held up oversized red clown shoes. "They're non-refundable."