Run: 2026-10-13-01M4TC4JPHTTGK9WX4S44JC8W1

Molly unrolled the blueprint across the hood of the car. It was a crayon drawing of a backyard. "Okay, Bill. Focus. Saturday, two p.m., the Hendersons' place. Target: the gift table." Bill squinted. "Is that a giraffe?" "It's the bouncy castle. Brayden's mom drew it for me." "You got intel from the target's mom?" "She's in my book club. Now listen." Molly tapped the crayon fence. "We go in as entertainers. You're the clown." "I get vertigo in big shoes." "You're six feet tall, Bill. The shoes are the least of our problems." "What if the kids want balloon animals?" "Then make balloon animals." "I only know how to make a snake." "Every kid gets a snake. Moving on." She traced a finger to the patio. "The presents are here. Forty-plus gifts, untouched, guarded only by a sheet cake and Aunt Linda." "Linda a problem?" "Linda's a gossip. Keep her talking about her hip surgery, she won't notice a thing. I'll handle the cake." "We're stealing cake too?" "The cake's a diversion, Bill. I cut it, kids swarm, you load the wagon." "We have a wagon?" "We're stealing the wagon. It's in the yard. Radio Flyer. Cherry red. Practically a getaway vehicle." Bill scratched his chin. "What's the take, anyway? What does a seven-year-old even get?" Molly flipped open her notebook. "Registry says a LEGO Star Destroyer, a drone, two Nerf arsenals, and a karaoke machine." "A drone? For a child? I didn't get a drone till I was thirty." "You bought your own drone, Bill." "And I treasure it. So what's my cut, the karaoke machine?" "You can't carry a tune." "I can carry a machine." Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. "Fine. Karaoke's yours. I take the Star Destroyer." "Thought you didn't like LEGO." "I like three hundred dollars on eBay." "Fair." Bill folded his arms. "One concern. The piñata. What if a kid breaks it early and the candy panic throws off the timeline?" "The piñata's scheduled for three-thirty. We're gone by three-fifteen." "Scheduled?" "I read the Evite, Bill. There's an itinerary. These people are animals about punctuality." Bill whistled. "A backyard with an itinerary." "Rich suburb, buddy. Now, contingency. If a kid catches you loading gifts?" "Say I'm the present fairy?" "You are a grown man in clown paint." "Late present fairy. Birthday goblin?" "Say the magician needs them for the big finale." "What magician?" "You. You're the magician. The finale is the gifts disappearing." Bill's eyes went wide. "Molly. That's beautiful. The crime is the show." "The crime is the show," she agreed, rolling up the crayon blueprint. He was quiet a moment. "Do I get a cape?" "You get a cape." "Worth it, then. When do we rehearse?" "We don't rehearse a wagon loading, Bill." "I rehearse everything. I rehearsed ordering pizza this morning." "That explains the forty-minute phone call." "Nailed the rehearsal, though." Molly slid into the driver's seat. "Saturday. Two p.m. Big shoes, bigger smile. And Bill?" "Yeah?" "If you eat any of the cake, you're walking home." He considered this seriously. "What kind of cake?" "Bill." "What kind, Molly. I need to weigh my options."