Run: 2026-09-23-01M36NNXJ4C7X7M3JBBJW4A858

Molly spread the floor plan across the bonnet of their getaway car. The children’s party occupied the community hall, a squat brick building decorated with balloons and a banner that read HAPPY BIRTHDAY, FINN! In the drawing, someone had added a suspiciously large cake. “We go in through the kitchen,” she said. “The caterers will be busy, the parents distracted, and the presents stacked beside the stage.” Bill adjusted his bow tie. It had tiny ducks on it. “And our cover?” “Magicians.” “I don’t know any magic.” “You don’t need to know magic. You need to wear this hat and look mysterious.” Bill peered into the tall black hat she handed him. A rabbit stared back. “Is it part of the act?” “It’s part of the hat.” They entered through the kitchen carrying a box marked MAGIC SUPPLIES. A woman in an apron rushed past them with a tray of cupcakes. “You’re the entertainment?” she asked. “Precisely,” Molly replied, flourishing a wand she had bought at a petrol station. “Prepare to be amazed.” “Great. The children are getting restless.” “Children are naturally restless,” Bill murmured as she dragged him toward the hall. “They’re like tiny, unpaid detectives.” The room was a riot of paper hats and sugar. A dozen children circled the birthday boy, while their parents stood around the walls pretending not to check their phones. Onstage, the presents formed a bright, bulging pile. Molly nudged Bill. “There. We wait until everyone watches the show, then we take the gifts to the car.” “You said we’d be performing.” “We are. Our finale is disappearing.” “That seems misleading.” “Only if people notice.” Molly stepped onto the stage and tapped the microphone. It produced a squeal that silenced the room. “Ladies and gentlemen, and people who have just eaten frosting directly from the bowl, welcome to the Amazing Molly and her assistant, Bill.” Bill bowed. The rabbit hopped out of his hat and landed in a bowl of crisps. The children roared. “Was that planned?” Bill whispered. “Everything is planned if you’re confident enough.” Molly began a card trick. While the children leaned forward, Bill edged toward the presents. He lifted the largest parcel, a box wrapped in silver paper, and tucked it under his coat. The coat bulged like a wardrobe with legs. A little girl pointed. “Why is that man shaped like a present?” “Because I’m the next trick,” Bill said. Molly snapped her fingers. “For my grand illusion, I need everyone to close their eyes!” The children shut their eyes. The parents did not. “Now!” she hissed. Bill grabbed three more gifts. Molly snatched the cake by its cardboard base, then discovered it was merely a painted box. The real cake sat on the table, guarded by a boy wearing a paper crown. “Give that back,” he said. “Of course,” Molly replied, placing the cake box down. “We’re professionals.” The boy considered her. “You’re not very good magicians.” “We’re branching out,” Bill said, dropping the presents. A parent opened the hall door. “Is everything all right in here?” “Perfect,” Molly said. “The rabbit has escaped, the gifts are safe, and the thieves have learned something.” “What?” Bill asked. “Never rob a children’s party. They have witnesses everywhere.” The children applauded, assuming this was the finale. Bill bowed again. The rabbit returned to his hat, carrying a crisp. “Do we still get cake?” he whispered. Molly looked at the birthday boy. “Only if you sing,” he said. So they sang, badly, while the presents remained exactly where they belonged.