Run: 2026-09-23-01M36NRJXPEZ7FHKAAWYWWZ8FW

Molly unfolded the floor plan across the hood of the getaway car. A smiling cartoon dinosaur beamed up at her from the paper, wearing a party hat and the words HAPPY SIXTH BIRTHDAY, ELLIOT. “Why does the security map have a dinosaur on it?” Bill asked. “Because it’s a children’s party,” Molly said. “Try to keep up.” “I thought we were robbing a warehouse.” “We are. The presents are in the warehouse.” Bill peered through binoculars at the community hall. Through its windows, children bounced around a balloon-covered room while a man in a purple dragon costume waved his tail. “That warehouse has a bouncy castle.” “Disguise,” Molly said, tightening her black gloves. “Nobody questions a dragon.” “They might question a dragon carrying bolt cutters.” “Then don’t carry bolt cutters.” “What should I carry?” “Cupcakes. You’ll look less suspicious.” Bill glanced down at the plastic tray in his hands. “These are suspiciously shaped like cupcakes.” “They’re normal cupcakes.” “They have little icing eyes.” “Festive.” Molly checked her watch. Their plan was simple: enter through the side door, blend in with the adults, locate the presents, and leave before anyone noticed the gift table was empty. It had taken three weeks to devise, mostly because Bill had insisted on researching birthday-party etiquette. “Do we sing?” he asked. “No.” “What if everyone else sings?” “Then we hum. Quietly.” “What if the birthday boy asks who we are?” “Tell him we’re distant relatives.” “Which side?” “The distant side.” They slipped around the building, crouching behind a hedge trimmed into the shape of a rabbit. Molly tested the door. It opened. Bill whispered, “That was easy.” “People trust doors,” Molly murmured. “It’s their weakness.” Inside, the hall smelled of frosting and damp costumes. Molly spotted the gift table beneath a banner. Boxes leaned in colorful stacks, some wrapped in superhero paper, others adorned with bows large enough to conceal small animals. Bill leaned close. “We take everything?” “Everything.” “Even the handmade card?” “Especially the handmade card. It could contain cash.” “It says ‘To Elliot, from Grandma.’” “Grandma may be wealthy.” A child in a cardboard crown approached them. “Are you the entertainers?” Molly froze. Bill immediately dropped to one knee. “We’re the cupcake inspectors,” he said. The child frowned. “That’s not a job.” “It is if you’re very thorough,” Bill replied, offering a cupcake. The child accepted it and sprinted away. Molly stared at Bill. “You gave away our cover cupcakes.” “I made a strategic alliance.” Before Molly could answer, the man in the dragon costume lumbered toward them. “You two! The magician’s late. Can you help with the treasure hunt?” Bill brightened. “Is there a treasure?” “Plastic coins,” Molly hissed. “Still currency.” They were handed a map and a sack. For ten minutes they led shrieking children beneath tables and behind the snack bar, collecting plastic coins while Molly tried to steer the hunt toward the gift table. At last, Bill leaned toward her. “We’re not thieves anymore. We’re party staff.” “Focus.” The children burst into the room, and Elliot’s grandmother followed, carrying a fresh tray of cupcakes. She looked at their sack. “Have you found the presents?” she asked. Molly smiled. “Not yet.” “Good. I hid them somewhere special.” Bill lowered the sack. “Where?” Grandma winked. “Somewhere the grown-ups won’t look.” The children cheered as she pointed to the bouncy castle. Beneath its inflated blue floor, the gift boxes were stacked in a wobbly mountain. Bill sighed. “I knew we should’ve brought bolt cutters.” Molly grabbed a cupcake. “Eat first. We’ve been hired.”