Run: 2026-03-09-01KK9Q9RTQCXBR10JS7NW9DCKT

Molly crouched behind the hydrangeas with the solemn concentration of a jewel thief examining crown diamonds, though what she was actually studying was a suburban back garden bristling with balloons, paper streamers, and a banner that read HAPPY 7TH, OLIVER!!! in letters so large they seemed to be shouting directly at the police. Bill, beside her, adjusted his flat cap and peered over the fence. The children’s party was in full swing. Tiny humans tore across the lawn in capes and cone hats, powered by frosting and poor decisions. At the center of the chaos stood the gift table: a trestle piled high with presents in glossy paper, curling ribbons, and bows the size of pigeons. “Tell me again,” Bill whispered, “why we’re robbing a birthday party instead of somewhere with fewer minors and more emeralds?” “Because,” Molly said, keeping her eyes on the prize, “children receive astonishingly expensive things from relatives who feel guilty. There’ll be game consoles, tablets, remote-control dinosaurs. It’s a sentimental gold mine.” Bill frowned. “It feels wrong to steal from children.” Molly turned to him. “Bill, we once stole a ceremonial cheese wheel from a mayor.” “That was from a mayor,” he said. “This is from Oliver. I don’t know Oliver, but he sounds little.” From the garden came a squeal, followed by the unmistakable thud of someone losing a sack race to physics. Molly produced a folded diagram from her pocket. It was drawn in red pencil and smelled faintly of peppermint. “Observe. The magician arrives in eight minutes. All eyes go to the rabbit, all ears go to the dreadful patter, and we slip in through the side gate, load the presents into the laundry basket, and vanish through the alley.” Bill studied the diagram upside down. “Why have you marked the clown as a hazard?” “Unpredictable footwear,” Molly said. “And access to balloons. Never trust a person who can produce a sausage dog from a pocket.” A shriek of laughter erupted from the lawn as a pirate-themed piñata was carried out like a festive hostage. Bill tugged at his collar. “There are a lot of adults.” “Yes, but none of them are paying attention. They’re drinking warm prosecco and discussing school admissions. In criminal terms, they are spiritually absent.” “And the dog?” Molly glanced toward the patio, where a bulldog in a birthday bow tie sat like a retired dockworker. “Bribed. I brought cocktail sausages.” Bill blinked. “You packed for the dog before you packed for me.” “You are less bitey.” He sighed. “What if a child sees us?” “Then we improvise. Smile vaguely, carry a clipboard, and say something bureaucratic. Adults fear clipboards.” Bill nodded despite himself. “That’s true. I once signed for a conservatory I didn’t want because a man had a lanyard.” A gust lifted the corner of the banner. One of the balloons popped with the gunshot drama only balloons possess. Molly took it as an omen. “Right,” she said, standing. “Game faces.” Bill rose more cautiously. “What sort of face is appropriate for stealing a pile of gifts from a seven-year-old?” “The sort that suggests you’re from catering.” They slipped through the side gate just as the magician announced himself with a cry of “Who’s ready for wonder?” which, to Molly’s mind, was exactly the sort of sentence that covered a multitude of crimes. Children stampeded toward the performance area. Adults drifted after them, applauding as if someone had cured weather. The gift table stood momentarily alone, bright and ridiculous, loaded with wrapping paper treasure. Bill seized the laundry basket and muttered, “I’m going to be haunted by very small ghosts.” Molly thrust a boxed present into his arms. “Move faster and they’ll never catch us.” He obeyed, stacking gifts until the basket looked like Christmas had suffered a head injury. For one glorious moment, it worked. Then a tiny voice behind them said, with devastating clarity, “Mum says you’re not our aunties.” Molly and Bill froze, surrounded by glittering paper and the crushing moral authority of a child in a plastic crown.