Run: 2026-03-11-01KKFD9Z1ZGHS1X4YZDTPG9W2Q

The light in the back of the *Lazy Ferret* bar was the color of old amber and dust. Molly slid a sheet of paper across the sticky table. Bill squinted at it, his nose nearly touching the crude crayon drawing. “A ball pit?” he whispered. “The Nelsons’ annual ‘Sparkle & Shout’ party for their six-year-old. Saturday at four. Three hours of controlled chaos. We’ll be ghosts in the garden.” Bill tapped the drawing of a sprawling suburban house, a section of the backyard highlighted. “The presents will be in the sunroom. Through here, past the bouncy castle. That’s where they do the ‘unwrapping ceremony.’ You want to steal the gifts during the unwrapping?” “Before,” Molly said, leaning back. “The parents are desperate. They’ll herd the kids into the yard for the bouncy castle first thing. A twenty-minute window while they’re all screaming at each other. We go in, grab the haul, out through the laundry room to the alley.” Bill whistled low. “That’s bold. What about Mr. Nelson? He’s ex-cop. Paranoid.” “He’s on grill duty. The mothers will have him by the apron strings. Mrs. Nelson is coordinating the ‘glitter station.’ It’s perfect.” “What’s the take? Last time we hit a kids’ thing, it was all fidget spinners and socks.” Molly’s grin was slow and wicked. “This is the Nelsons. They don’t do store-bought. Think imported Italian remote-control cars, a dollhouse with actual electric lights, a junior chemistry set with real beakers. And the centerpiece… a custom-built wooden pirate ship. Three feet long. Hand-painted sails.” Bill’s eyes widened. “That’s worth a fortune on the specialty market.” “Exactly. We take it all. The parents will blame a catering worker, or each other. It’ll be the scandal of the school year.” “Alright. So we’re in. How do we look?” Bill gestured at his own worn jacket and Molly’s practical black turtleneck. “We look like party help. Aprons, I’ve got two. Clipboard for you. I’ll carry a toolbox. We’re the ‘event entertainers’ setting up the last-minute magic show. No one questions people who look busy and slightly stressed.” “What if someone asks us to do a trick?” “You’ll pull a coin from a kid’s ear. I saw you do it at your nephew’s thing. It was terrible, but it’ll work.” “Thanks. So… the exit. A three-foot pirate ship isn’t going under my shirt.” Molly pulled out another, more detailed map. “The Nelsons have a compost bin right by the alley fence. It’s huge. We stash the goods in the bin—lid on. Come back for them later. The smell will keep anyone from digging around.” Bill stared at the map, then at Molly. “You’ve thought about this a lot.” “Someone has to. So? Are you in, or are you going to spend Saturday watching cartoons in your pants again?” Bill folded the map carefully and slipped it into his pocket. “I’ll bring my coin.”