"You're visible," Molly whispered, pressing her nose against the frosted glass of the van. She checked the street for cars nervously. "He’s looking at the cake, Molly. He’s an artist." Bill adjusted his tie, looking tense. "Artists don't notice a getaway driver in a double-breasted suit." Bill glared at the oversized yellow foam cowpie resting on the clown's head. It looked heavy. "He’s distracted by the icing," Bill noted. "We just need patience. The parents will drink the punch and pass out." "Great, just like the last time. We have to wait two hours?" "We have to wait until the piñata breaks. That’s our signal." Bill checked his watch. "It never breaks, Molly. It's a cartoon." "Then we find a different target. I heard there’s a meth lab across town." "I don't want a meth lab. I want the Scooby-Doo toys." "We get the Scooby-Doo toys, then we leave. Keep your head down."