Run: 2026-03-06-01KK1JB6QBZ8XFY53PN6ANNZ5G

Molly crouched behind the hedge, studying the inflatable castle bobbing over the garden fence like a cheerful surveillance balloon. Bill unfolded a crayon-smeared invitation he'd stolen from a coat pocket and squinted as if decoding military plans. “Ten children, one clown, two exhausted parents,” Molly whispered. “Frankly, Bill, it’s less a party and more a security collapse with cake.” Bill adjusted his flat cap. “I don’t like the clown. Clowns notice things. Tiny shoes, giant intuition.” “The clown is making balloon giraffes. No professional detective does giraffes.” A shriek rose from the garden, followed by the fizzy pop of a burst balloon and wild applause. Molly smiled grimly. “We go in as entertainers,” Bill said. “I juggle badly, you do that ventriloquist thing.” “My ventriloquist thing terrifies vicars and one horse. We need subtlety.” “Subtlety left when you suggested stealing from children.” “Borrowing,” Molly corrected. “Temporarily. Until we sell everything.” Bill peered through the slats. “Presents are stacked by the patio doors. Bright paper, ribbons, minimal adult supervision. It’s practically a charity drive for us.” Molly produced two party hats from her pocket. “Blend in, grab the loot, retreat through the side gate.” Bill took a hat reluctantly. “If anyone asks, I’m Uncle Kevin.” “You don’t look like an Uncle Kevin.” “Nobody does until destiny calls,” Bill muttered, and together they marched toward the sound of party games.