Run: 2026-09-23-01M37HSDSB4SQNPVCGRJ2ZCX6S

Molly spread a crayon drawing across the café table. “Here’s the house. Kitchen, living room, back garden. The presents are here, under the banner that says ‘Happy Sixth Birthday, Poppy.’” Bill studied it. “Is that a security camera?” “That’s a sunflower.” “Why does it have a red blinking eye?” “Because Poppy owns a glitter pen.” Bill pushed the drawing away. “I don’t like this job.” “You said that about the museum.” “The museum didn’t have a bouncy castle.” “The bouncy castle is an advantage. Everyone will be watching it.” “Everyone except the parents guarding the presents.” Molly tapped a purple rectangle. “That’s why we enter as entertainers.” “What kind of entertainers?” “Magicians.” “I can’t do magic.” “You can disappear when the bill arrives.” “That takes years of practice.” Molly pulled two capes from her bag. One was black satin. The other was a bath towel with a duck on it. Bill stared. “Which one’s mine?” “Whichever makes you look less suspicious.” “So, neither.” At the next table, a woman folded her newspaper and moved away. Molly lowered her voice. “We perform one trick. During the applause, we move the presents into our equipment trunk.” “How many presents?” “Twenty-three, according to the invitation photo.” “You counted them?” “You counted the sausages in the catering photo.” “Thirty-six. Forty if you include the ones wrapped in pastry.” “The plan needs both of us focused.” “I am focused. I’m picturing a six-year-old crying because we stole her birthday.” Molly’s finger stopped on the drawing. “We wouldn’t keep them.” Bill looked up. “That’s new.” “We’d take them to the van, photograph the haul for the client, then return them before cake.” “Our client is paying us to borrow toys?” “He says one box contains a diamond he hid during a divorce.” “And you believe him?” Molly glanced at the envelope beside her coffee. “I believe he paid half up front.” Bill opened it. Inside was a photograph of a small velvet box and a handwritten note: BLUE PAPER, SILVER STARS. He frowned. “Why steal everything if we know which present?” “Because yesterday’s photo showed three with blue paper and silver stars.” “Then take three.” “Poppy’s aunt posted another photo this morning. She’s wrapped every present to match. There are twenty-three now.” A balloon floated past the café window, tugged by a child in a party dress. Behind her, a man struggled with a box marked GIANT UNICORN PIÑATA. Bill watched them cross the street. “That’s Poppy, isn’t it?” “Yes.” “She looks excited.” “She’s going to a party.” “She’s wearing a crown.” “It’s her birthday, Bill.” He slid the photograph back into the envelope. “No trunk. No capes. We ask the parents if they’ve seen the velvet box.” “And if they say no?” “We help tidy up afterward. Twenty-three presents have to be unwrapped eventually.” Molly gathered the drawing. “What do we tell the client?” “That we’re working on it. True, for once.” “And what do we do until then?” Bill looked through the window as the man wrestled the piñata through the garden gate. “I could help him carry that.” “You’re still wearing the cape.” “It’s a towel.” “Exactly.” Bill stood, fastening it around his neck. “If anyone asks, I’m Duckman.” “You’ll terrify the children.” “Not if I bring the sausages.”