Run: 2026-09-02-01M1H5HRA43JM1RBAYMW3A1JE9

Molly spread the blueprints across the greasy table of the diner booth, weighing down the corners with sugar packets and a syrup dispenser. Bill leaned over, squinting at what appeared to be a crayon drawing of a backyard. "This is the intel?" he said. "It's got a sun with sunglasses on it." "The target's eight-year-old drew it. I bribed her with a lollipop. Best twenty cents I ever spent." "Okay, walk me through it." Molly tapped the drawing. "The party's Saturday, two o'clock. Bouncy castle in the yard, which covers the sight lines from the neighbor's window. Present table right here, under the elm tree, unattended because everyone's watching the kid whack a piñata." "Piñata at what time?" "Three fifteen. Sixty seconds of blind chaos. That's our window." Bill rubbed his chin. "Sixty seconds to bag forty presents." "Thirty-eight. We're not monsters, Bill. She gets the big one from her grandma." He stared at her. "You did recon on the gift hierarchy?" "I talked to the grandmother. Lovely woman. She's bringing a dollhouse." "The dollhouse stays," Bill agreed, nodding solemnly. Then he frowned. "The problem's the costume. You said the host checks IDs at the fence?" "She hired a balloon artist and a magician. Security's tight for a six-year-old's birthday. But here's the play: we go in as the face painter." "Neither of us can paint faces." "I can paint a butterfly. One butterfly. Any kid who asks for something else, I tell them my brush is drying." "That's going to fall apart in four minutes." "Four minutes is all we need if you're moving presents while I'm distracting children with subpar art." Bill stirred his coffee, thinking. "What about the dog? Intel mentioned a dog." "The dog's name is Cupcake and she's terrified of balloons. I bring balloons. Dog retreats to the garage. Simple." "Where do you even get that kind of intelligence?" "I sat at the bus stop next to the house for three days, Bill. People tell you things when you have a clipboard." He leaned back, arms crossed. "Say we pull this off. What's the fence pay for a haul of children's birthday presents?" "That's the beautiful part. Nothing. We keep it." "Keep it?" "Merry Christmas to our nieces and nephews. Forty presents, zero dollars. We've been spending our cut on wrapping paper anyway." Bill was quiet for a long moment. "Molly, this is the most wholesome crime we've ever planned." "I know. I feel dirty just thinking about how clean it is." "And the face painting?" "You're the assistant. You hold the brushes and look trustworthy." "I have a face that says probation." "Then smile less." Bill sighed and pulled the crayon drawing closer, studying the sun with sunglasses. "The kid drew a camera. Right there, by the fence. What's that?" Molly went pale. She snatched the drawing and held it to the light. "That's not a camera. That's her dad's drone. He films the whole party." "So we're robbing a birthday party that has its own film crew." "Every heist has complications," Molly said, pocketing the drawing. "Add it to the list."