Molly spread the crayon-drawn map across the dashboard and tapped the big pink house. "The party starts at two. That gives us a forty-minute window while they're doing the piñata in the backyard." "I don't like piñatas," Bill said. "One hit me in the face once." "Focus, Bill." "I'm just saying. Papier-mâché is deceptively heavy." "The presents will be stacked on a folding table in the living room. We go in through the side door, load the bags, and we're out before they sing Happy Birthday." "What if a kid sees us?" "We're wearing the clown costumes." "I'm not wearing the clown costume, Molly." "You're wearing the clown costume." "Last time I wore that thing, a toddler bit me." "You'll survive. Now, the mother ordered a bouncy castle, which means every adult will be distracted watching kids bounce into each other. It's the perfect cover." "What kind of presents are we talking here?" "LEGOs, Bill. Mountains of LEGOs." "LEGOs hurt when you step on them." "Everything hurts you, Bill. Are you in or not?" Bill sighed and picked up the red foam nose. "I'm in."