# The Birthday Caper Molly spread the floor plan across the kitchen table, pointing at the marked locations with her pencil. Bill leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, trying to look skeptical. "A children's birthday party? Really? That's what we're doing now?" Bill asked. "Not just any party. The Henderson kid's party. She's getting at least forty presents. Forty, Bill. We're talking video game systems, tablets, those fancy scooters." "Yeah, but it's a kids' party. There will be security guards? Parents? Actual supervision?" Bill scratched his head. "One parent supervising. One. The mother is overwhelmed, three kids running around, chaos everywhere. It's perfect," Molly said, tapping the floor plan emphatically. "Molly, we just robbed a bank last month. We're professionals. How does this not feel like a downgrade?" Bill shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Because those presents are worth eighteen thousand dollars. The parent's insurance will cover it, nobody gets hurt, and we get paid. It's a victimless crime." "It's a crime against children's happiness. That's a victim I can see," Bill countered. "We're not heartless. We leave the cheap stuff. The knock-off building blocks, the coloring books. We only take the high-ticket items," Molly explained. Bill groaned. "How do we even get out of there with forty presents? That's logistically impossible." "Seven bags. Forty presents divided by seven is roughly six per bag. We disguise them as party favor bags and leave through the back during the cake chaos." "What cake chaos? You're assuming there will be chaos," Bill said. "I'm assuming a room full of six-year-olds eating cake and sugar. Trust me, Bill. There will be chaos. The kind of chaos that makes a bank heist look like a meditation session." Bill rubbed his temples. "What if someone recognizes us?" "We wear character costumes. I'm a clown, you're a balloon animal guy. Nobody looks at those people twice, and if they do, they can't identify us through the makeup." "A clown and a balloon animal guy are going to be suspicious carrying seven large bags," Bill pointed out. "We label them as supplies. Confetti, balloons, costume changes. Parents never question that stuff. They're too busy trying to keep kids from destroying their houses." Bill stood up and walked to the window, staring out at the street. Molly waited, knowing he was processing. After thirty seconds of silence, he turned back. "If I get face-painted by a six-year-old, the deal's off," Bill said. Molly grinned. "Deal. So you're in?" "Yeah, yeah. I'm in. But if we get arrested at a children's birthday party, I'm telling the judge this was all your idea." "Fair enough," Molly said, shaking his hand. "This Saturday at two o'clock."