Run: 2026-10-08-01M4E0X6YX05Q2GHSK33TSTC3Y

Molly and Bill crouched behind a privet hedge across the road from 14 Maple Lane. Through the front window, a mountain of glittering presents glowed beneath a banner reading HAPPY SEVENTH BIRTHDAY, TYLER! Bill unfolded a napkin covered in crayon arrows and a drawing that might have been a cake. "Phase one," Bill whispered. "I go in dressed as a clown." "You're not a clown." "I've got the nose." He pressed a squeaky red foam nose onto his face and grinned. "Nobody suspects a clown." "Every child in that house is terrified of clowns, Bill. They'll scream the second you walk in." "Perfect. Nobody hears a burglar over a seven-year-old having a meltdown." Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. Across the lawn, a bouncy castle wobbled like a jelly while a pack of kids in paper crowns stampeded in and out of the open front door. "Fine. And what do I do?" "You're the face painter. Nobody looks twice at the face painter." "Bill, every kid in there will be queuing for a tiger the second I open my paint box. I'll be the most watched woman in Maple Lane." "Then paint them all tigers. Tigers are very distracting." "And the presents?" "All of them. Even the ones that look suspiciously like socks." Bill scribbled something on the napkin with a purple crayon, looking very pleased with himself. "What about the mothers? Every one of them has eyes in the back of her head." "That's why we don't go near the mothers. We work the uncle." "Which uncle?" "The one by the drinks table saying, 'Just one more prosecco.'" "So our inside man is a drunk uncle." "He's the most reliable man in the room. He'll be snoring by three." "You've planned this down to the minute?" "I've been up since five with a protractor." Behind them, parked on the double yellows, sat an ice cream van with a faded picture of a 99 on its side. Its speakers were still wired up, and every time the wind shifted, the tinny chime of Greensleeves drifted across the road like a bad omen. "Why do we have an ice cream van?" "It's Gary's. He owes me for the fish incident." "I don't want to know about the fish incident." "It was a very large fish, Molly." At the bay window, a small boy in a paper crown pressed his nose to the glass and stared at them with the grave suspicion of a very tiny sheriff. "Bill. He's looking at us." "Wave. Clowns are always friendly." "He's seven, Bill. He'll tell everyone." The boy grinned, spun around, and bellowed over his shoulder that the clown had finally arrived. Somewhere inside, a door creaked open. "Showtime," Bill said, straightening his enormous nose. "We're not the entertainment, Bill." "We are now." Molly sighed, cracked her knuckles, and followed him across the road while the ice cream van chimed out its tune one more time, as if it were cheering them both on.