I carefully set my favorite porcelain cup filled with freshly brewed coffee on top of the nearest filing cabinet and braced my hands on my hips, then met my opponent’s dark, beady glare with one of my own. This wasn’t the first time this week I’d pondered creative ways to execute my plans for the creature’s demise. And being a five-foot, five-inch woman weighing one hundred and ten pounds, possibly one hundred and thirteen—no scale available to confirm or deny—I was fairly confident I could take the small, gray, and furry four-legged creature with little pink feet and a hairless pink tail.

Whiskers twitching, he rose on his hind legs, utterly unimpressed and undaunted by my presence. Caught in the grasp of his clawed clutches was a morsel of the delectable cream cheese muffin I’d purchased from Mattie’s Coffee Shop across the street.

A quick glance at the crumbs lining the plate and the gaping hole in the no longer edible dome-shaped cake only irritated me more. When my muffin-stealing nemesis had the audacity to make a production out of stuffing another tasty crumb into his mouth, I lost it.

Growling wasn’t something I normally did either, but I was making noises like a rabid dog at the gray furball who’d cost me two out of three of my favorite morning meals. Since I lived alone and my cooking skills lacked the aptitude of anything closely resembling those of a decent chef, I either prepared something that came out of a box or visited one of the few food serving establishments within walking distance of my small yet comfortable apartment.

The nearest thing within reach happened to be a paperweight, one of many similar touristy items sold in the shops throughout the town. Encased inside the round half globe of clear, hard plastic was a miniature pirate’s ship and the words “Cumberpatch Cove, Maine” scrawled in a beautiful neon blue script beneath it.

Knowing I wasn’t athletically inclined didn’t stop me from cocking my arm like a professional baseball player and tossing the oval dome. Of course, it missed its target, did a double bounce across the desktop, scattering all the neatly stacked papers in its wake before slamming into the bordering wall with a loud thump.

If mice could smile, this one was practically sneering with triumph. In a flash of fur, he scurried across the surface, shuffling the papers even more before sailing off the edge. He made a graceful landing on the seat of my chair, then continued his descent until he reached the floor and disappeared under the desk.

The building was old and constantly in need of minor repairs. I wasn’t sure how he continually accessed my office, but it was a good guess he’d found a crack somewhere in the floorboard along the wall, and I was determined to keep him from escaping.

“Oh, no you don’t.”

Needing something to capture the arrogant little varmint, I grabbed the plastic trash can off the floor, which thankfully only contained some crumpled papers I’d tossed inside the day before. I hastily emptied the contents onto the floor, then shoved the chair out of the way, dropped on my hands and knees, and crawled under the desk.

It didn’t take long to find him. Instead of scampering off, he stood on all fours facing me, his gaze focused as if studying a chess opponent. Turning the can upside down, I held my breath and slowly eased it toward him.

Hasty footsteps creaked on the old hardwood floor, then abruptly stopped in the doorway. “Rylee, are you okay?” Abigail Spencer, Abby to her friends, Grams to me, continued in a concerned voice. “It sounded like this half of the building collapsed.” I could see the rounded tips of her brown leather pumps peeking out beneath the hem of a dark blue pleated skirt. “Are we having an earthquake? Is that why you’re hiding under the desk?” She pushed the chair aside. “In all the years I’ve lived here, I don’t recall us ever having a single one. But I suppose there’s always a first time.”