Run: 2026-10-27-01M5YERBS6FPTQ7S2RYJ4TMG83

Molly spread a crayon map across the kitchen table. The house was a purple square with a smiling sun above it. Bill leaned closer. “Is that the target,” he asked, “or did the target draw it?” “Both. I found it on the fridge. The presents are in the sitting room, behind a table full of fairy cakes.” “Excellent. We can walk in, take the presents, and walk out.” “We need disguises. A children’s party is the one place you can’t wear a balaclava without somebody calling your mother.” Bill opened a cupboard and brought out a glittery cardboard crown, a cape, and a pair of enormous red shoes. He arranged them carefully. “I thought I could be the entertainer,” he said. “I already own the shoes.” “You bought those because your feet hurt.” “Exactly. Nobody suspects a clown with comfortable arches.” “You’ll also need tricks. The children will expect you to do something besides carry off their presents.” “I can juggle two oranges.” “That’s holding oranges, Bill.” “It’s juggling if I panic.” Molly took out her notebook and drew two arrows through the front door. Bill added a third, which went through the garden hedge and ended in a pond. “Why would we go that way?” she asked. “We wouldn’t. It’s to confuse anyone who finds the plans.” “Good thinking. Now, while you’re juggling, I’ll load the presents into my sack.” “Your sack says MERRY CHRISTMAS in letters a foot high.” “I’ll turn it inside out.” “The children might still notice their presents disappearing.” “I’ve thought of that. Every time I pick one up, you shout, ‘Look over there!’ and point in another direction.” Bill considered this. “How many presents are we expecting?” “Twenty or thirty.” “My arm will get tired. Could you shout it sometimes?” Molly agreed and added a rota to the plan. Then she opened her handbag, producing a party invitation and a small wrapped box. “What’s that?” Bill asked. “A present. If I arrive empty-handed, people might talk.” “Very clever. What did you get?” “A jigsaw. It was on sale because someone had returned it with a piece missing.” Bill examined the invitation. His expression changed, although Molly could still see the nose and mouth she’d drawn on it. “This says the party’s for your niece.” “I know. It’s a perfect opportunity. I’ve been inside the house before, and her parents have no idea I’m a thief.” “They will when they see you taking the presents.” “I’m wearing a disguise, remember?” “The invitation asks everyone to dress as a pirate. You’ll still look like Auntie Molly, but with an eye patch.” Molly picked up her jigsaw and shook it. Somewhere inside, the remaining pieces slid sadly against one another. “We could take one present instead of all of them,” she said. “Your sister is bound to recognise the jigsaw.” “Not that one. The biggest one.” Bill put on the crown and red shoes. He tried walking across the kitchen, got a shoe caught on a chair, and fell gently into the sack. “Maybe we should just go to the party,” he said. “And leave the presents?” “We’ll have cake. And if you stay until the end, your sister usually asks you to take home all the leftover sandwiches.” Molly helped him out of the sack. “She does make good sandwiches,” she admitted.