Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0PD2DNGCJMZR974FEJ5JM2

Molly pressed her nose to the bakery window across from the community hall, fogging the glass beside a tower of iced buns. Through the drizzle, balloons bobbed over the hall’s doorway like brightly colored guards. “Sixteen presents,” she said. Bill lowered his binoculars. “Seventeen. You forgot the dinosaur bag.” “That’s not a present. That’s camouflage with handles.” “It has tissue paper.” “So does my aunt’s bathroom.” Bill scribbled in a notebook labeled Completely Harmless Birdwatching. “Fine. Sixteen confirmed, one suspected.” Inside the hall, children shrieked with the joyful menace of tiny pirates. A man in a rabbit costume struggled to hang a banner that read HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SOPHIE! One ear drooped into the punch bowl. Molly tapped the window. “Entry point?” “Back door by the kitchen,” Bill said. “Guarded by one grandmother, two folding chairs, and a tray of sausage rolls.” “Sausage rolls are not guards.” “You say that because you’ve never been distracted by twelve at once.” Molly turned to him. Her raincoat was yellow, her hat was purple, and the fake mustache she’d insisted on wearing had gone lopsided. “We are professionals.” “We once got trapped in a revolving door.” “We were testing its security features.” “For forty minutes?” “Thoroughly.” Bill looked back through the binoculars. “There’s a clown.” Molly froze. “Actual clown?” “Big shoes. Red nose. Emotional damage in progress.” “I don’t like clowns.” “You stole a crown from a wax museum queen.” “Queens don’t honk.” A bus hissed at the curb, unloading three more children and a woman carrying a parcel nearly as large as herself. Molly’s eyes glittered. “That one’s ours,” she said. Bill swallowed. “Molly, I know we’re thieves, but these are children’s presents.” “Exactly. Low security, high wrapping paper.” “What are we even hoping for? Toy cars? Building blocks? A kazoo?” “A limited edition Princess Pegasus Dream Stable,” Molly said, reverently. “Worth a fortune online if unopened.” Bill stared. “You researched this.” “I joined six parenting forums.” “As a parent?” “As ‘MumOfTriplets82.’ Very respected.” The rabbit stumbled out the front door, gasping for air, one paw clutching a paper plate. Bill pointed. “Distraction available.” “No. We need disguises.” He opened his rucksack and produced two party hats, a glittery gift bag, and a badge that read I’M WITH THE MAGICIAN. Molly narrowed her eyes. “Where did you get that?” “From the magician.” “You stole from a magician?” “He made my wallet disappear first.” “That was part of the act.” “It was a hostile act.” They crossed the street under the cover of a delivery van painted with smiling cupcakes. Molly carried the empty gift bag. Bill wore the badge and tried to look mystical, which mostly made him look constipated. At the hall’s side entrance, the grandmother guarded the kitchen door with a cup of tea and the calm suspicion of a lighthouse keeper. “Names?” she asked. Molly smiled. “We’re with entertainment.” “I thought the magician canceled.” Bill lifted one finger. “Or did he?” The grandmother looked unimpressed. “Do a trick.” Bill went pale. Molly elbowed him. “Right,” he said. He reached behind the grandmother’s ear and produced a sausage roll. She blinked. “That was on my plate.” “Magic,” Bill whispered. Inside, chaos wrapped around them like bunting. Children ran in circles. Parents clapped off-beat. The clown honked miserably near the stage. Molly scanned the present table. “There. North wall.” Bill whispered, “New problem.” “What?” “Sophie.” The birthday girl stood beside the presents wearing a paper crown and the expression of a tiny judge. Molly crouched behind a cardboard castle. “We need to lure her away.” “With what?” “Cake.” “She’s eight, not a bear.” “Same operational principles.” Bill rummaged in his pocket. “I’ve got a balloon animal.” “That’s a worm.” “It’s abstract.” Before Molly could answer, Sophie marched over. “Are you burglars?” Bill choked. Molly beamed. “No, darling. We’re surprise gift inspectors.” Sophie folded her arms. “That’s not real.” “It is in Belgium,” Bill said. “My mum says if anyone suspicious comes near the presents, I should scream.” Molly nodded solemnly. “Excellent policy.” Sophie leaned closer. “But if you can find my missing unicorn card, I won’t.” Bill and Molly exchanged a glance. “Missing where?” Molly asked. “Clown’s pocket.” The clown honked, startled, as they looked over. Bill sighed. “So we rob the clown?” Molly straightened her mustache. “Finally, a respectable job.”