# The Birthday Caper Molly spread a crumpled blueprint across the sticky pizzeria table, careful not to touch the marinara sauce puddle spreading across the corner. She'd stolen this schematic from the Belmont Community Center last Tuesday, along with three breadsticks and someone's car keys. "So we enter through the kitchen entrance," she said, tapping a stubby pencil against the east wall. "The birthday party is Saturday at two o'clock. Jimmy Patterson. Five-year-olds. Chaos incarnate." Bill leaned back in his chair, which immediately groaned under his weight. He was thinking hard, his face scrunched like a raisin left in the sun too long. "What's the prize, Molly? We've hit museums, jewelry stores, that one guy's really impressive garden gnome collection. Why presents from a children's party?" "Because," Molly said slowly, "Mrs. Patterson is the wife of Derek Patterson. Derek Patterson who inherited his mother's ceramic doll collection. Worth about forty thousand dollars. She's lending her kid's friends those limited-edition action figures as party favors. Vintage G.I. Joe figures from 1964." Bill's eyes widened. "No." "Yes." "Mixed with regular party presents?" "Mixed with regular party presents," Molly confirmed. Bill whistled low. "That's diabolical. Also stupid. Also brilliant." He paused. "How do we know which presents are which?" Molly pulled out her phone, scrolling through what appeared to be Mrs. Patterson's Instagram. "She posted about it. Look." She turned the screen toward him. There was a photo of the wrapped presents with gold ribbon, exactly three wrapped in silver ribbon instead. "The silver ones," Bill said. "The silver ones," Molly agreed. Bill stood up and started pacing. "We'll need costumes. Can't just walk in looking like ourselves. And what about the party staff? There's probably someone hired to manage the chaos." "One coordinator named Sandra. Early sixties. Runs exactly four parties every Saturday. She takes a fifteen-minute bathroom break at two forty-five." Molly pulled out a second document. "I may have already researched this extensively." "You're obsessed." "I'm thorough." Bill slid back into the chair. "What do you need me to do? And before you answer, know that I'm absolutely committing a federal crime by stealing from children's parties, so I'm already in deep." Molly grinned. She loved this part. "You distract the kids with a magic show in the main room. Nothing complicated. Just basic card tricks and some balloon animals." "Molly, I can't do magic." "You can do something that vaguely resembles magic while I snatch the presents." She tapped the blueprint again. "In and out. Twelve minutes maximum." Bill groaned. "What kind of balloon animals?" "Doesn't matter. Kids are easily impressed. You could hand them a deflated balloon and they'd think you'd created art."