Molly squinted through the binoculars at the bouncy castle in the backyard. "Seven-year-old's princess party. Jackpot." "You're sure about this?" Bill adjusted his clown wig nervously. "Trust me. Rich neighborhood equals premium presents." The plan was simple: Bill would arrive as the backup entertainer while Molly posed as a catering assistant. Between the sugar-rushed kids and the wine-drunk parents, nobody would notice a few dozen wrapped boxes disappearing into their van. Molly watched a mother emerge from the house carrying a tower of perfectly wrapped packages. Each box bore ribbons that probably cost more than her breakfast. The pile joined an already impressive mountain of gifts near the patio doors. Bill practiced his balloon animals one last time, managing to create something that vaguely resembled a diseased giraffe. He'd downloaded exactly one YouTube tutorial. "Remember," Molly said, shoving a red foam nose at him, "you're Bingo the Magnificent." "I thought it was Bonzo." "Whatever. Just keep them distracted." The birthday girl's tiara caught the sunlight as she bounced past the window. Molly checked her watch. In twenty minutes, those kids would learn a valuable lesson about leaving presents unguarded. She straightened her apron and headed for the side gate.