What was she trying to hide? I didn’t want her to be the saboteur, but Edie did have access to every part of the business. Nobody had a better chance to take the bakery down. But what possible motive could she have? She’d always been intensely loyal to Philippe. I couldn’t imagine her doing anything to purposely hurt him.

I crossed to her desk and reached for the folder, mostly to see how she would react. If she did nothing, I’d tell myself that I’d only imagined all that furtive file stashing. My fingers brushed the folder and Edie whipped around in her chair so fast, I jerked backward instinctively.

She snatched the folder away from my hand and stuffed it into a drawer. “Do you mind?”

Okay, so not my imagination. “What’s in the folder?”

“Nothing.” Edie stared at me without blinking, but the sudden flush of color in her cheeks told another story.

Aunt Yolanda’s voice whispered in my head, Begin as you mean to go on. It was just one of a hundred pieces of advice she’d given me over the years. I’d rebelled against most of them when I was a deeply unhappy teenager, but today it seemed like a good idea. Be assertive, I told myself, not aggressive. “I’d like to see it.”

Her eyes darkened and her lips thinned. “It’s nothing important.”

“Apparently, it’s important enough for you to try hiding it from me. What is it, Edie?”

“Just a client file. No big deal.” She started to turn back to her computer, trying to dismiss me and end the conversation.

I hesitated for a heartbeat. I wasn’t planning to stay here permanently, so I wondered just how important it was for me to establish my authority. But I was here on Miss Frankie’s behalf. If Edie was keeping secrets about the business, I needed to know. “I’d like to see it,” I said again.

She scowled up at me. “Why?”

I wasn’t going to let her put me on the defensive, so I countered with an offensive move of my own. “Maybe you should tell me why you’re trying so hard to hide it.”

“I’m not trying to hide anything. I’m just doing my job.”

“By making it impossible for me to do mine?” I held out a hand and wiggled my fingers. “Just hand it over, Edie. Save us both time.”

With a heavy sigh, she tugged open the desk drawer and shoved the folder at me. “Fine. Have it your way. It’s no big deal. Just a client who’s refusing to pay his bill.”

I chalked the moment up as a minor victory. “So why didn’t you want me to see it?”

“He’s a very wealthy client with an even more wealthy and powerful father.”

“Aren’t all your clients wealthy?” They had to be, considering the price tags I’d seen on the cakes in the design area.

“Not this wealthy,” Edie said. “The Hightowers are old money and high society. Julian—the father—has taken the family money and invested it in real estate, businesses, sports teams, entertainment. You name it; they probably own it. Anyway, they’re a very big deal, and Philippe was really stoked about getting the contract for J. J.—the son’s—wedding.”

I sat across from Edie and flipped open the folder. “So what’s the issue?”

“It’s totally bizarre. The cake was amazing. Exactly what the couple asked for. But the groom,” Edie nodded toward the folder, “threw an absolute fit when Philippe delivered it. In front of three hundred guests. So what could have been the greatest boost to Zydeco’s reputation yet turned into a complete disaster. Three hundred rich potential clients now think that Zydeco is a half-baked operation. And J. J. Hightower is refusing to pay the balance due, which is a ton of money. It was an incredible cake.”

I flipped through the file to acquaint myself with the order. Edie was right. The photos inside showed a stunning cake. Four tiers of milk-chocolate cinnamon cake covered in buttercream of the palest yellow. Sunflowers, also made of buttercream, cascaded from top to bottom, so beautifully sculpted that they appeared real. All for a measly seven thousand dollars. Geez, I could have lived on that for months. “It looks great. What’s his problem?”

Edie raked her fingers through her hair. “J. J. claims we made a mistake on the cake. And before you ask, I don’t know what he thinks we did wrong. I tried calling him a few minutes ago, but he refuses to discuss it with anyone but Philippe.”

My head shot up from the file. “Did you tell him that’s not going to be possible?”

“They’ve been on their honeymoon. Just got back last night and apparently haven’t heard the news yet. I tried to explain, but J. J. hung up before I could tell him about Philippe.” Edie propped her chin in her hand. “The whole thing is a huge mess. I didn’t want Miss Frankie to hear about it until I could fix it. Our reputation has taken a huge hit. We can’t afford to take a hit financially, too. I mean, we could swallow the loss,” she said, “but first of all, I’m not sure that would make J. J. happy. And secondly, if word got out that we let the Hightowers walk without paying, everybody will try to get away with it. That we really can’t afford.”

I wasn’t as worried about the money as I was about the damage to Zydeco’s reputation. Delivering a flawed cake, or even one the client just didn’t like, to a once-in-a-lifetime event wasn’t something we could make better. It wasn’t as if we could offer them a replacement wedding cake and undo the damage.

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

Edie squinted up at me, considering my offer. “You’re the boss.”

Right. “Okay, then. Would you mind setting up an appointment? Maybe Tuesday morning?” At Edie’s nod, I held up the folder. “Do you mind if I hang on to this for a couple of days?”

“Go for it.” But Edie still looked troubled, and when she spoke again, I realized why. “Listen, Rita, there’s something else you should know.”

Uh-oh. “Okay. Hit me. What is it?”

“We’re supposed to be bidding on a job next week—a grand opening for a high-tech company. Philippe was working on the design right before . . . you know.”

“He didn’t have time to finish it?”

Edie shook her head. “I don’t know. I looked for the design all over Zydeco this morning, but I can’t find it. I don’t know where it is.”

My spirits dived even further. Was this a coincidence or another act of sabotage? “Maybe it’s been misplaced,” I suggested optimistically. “The police were all over the building yesterday.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

I told myself not to assume the worst. Stay calm. Don’t panic. There could be a logical explanation. “We’ll find it,” I said, trying hard to sound as if I believed that. “What’s the cutoff date for submitting the bid?”

“The fifteenth.”

I glanced at the calendar on the wall. “Next week, right? We should be okay, then. Any idea where he had it last?”

Edie shook her head slowly. “He had it with him the morning he was killed, and now it’s gone. That’s all I know.”

It was ridiculous to wonder if the missing design had something to do with Philippe’s murder. Wasn’t it? But maybe he’d walked in on the saboteur and caught him stealing the design?

“I thought Ox was in charge of graphic design for Zydeco. Does he have a copy?”

“Not this time. Philippe had decided to work on this cake himself.”

Philippe created all of his sketches by hand, and he’d rarely bothered to photocopy or scan his work, at least until he was finished. Ox, on the other hand, was more careful. “So there’s no backup.”

Shaking her head, Edie reached for a humongous softdrink cup hidden behind her computer screen. “I’m afraid not. It’s not just the sketch, either. I know that Philippe had worked out the time line for building the cake and creating all the pieces for it. He spent hours and hours doing that. Plus, he made a list of all the supplies we’d need.”

“That’s a lot of work to lose,” I agreed. “But it has to be here somewhere. We’ll find it.”

Edie smiled uncertainly. “I hope so. He worked on that design for days. I feel like it’s his legacy or something.”

I got to my feet, finally feeling ready to tackle Philippe’s office. I’d look for the missing design, too, while I was in there. “I’d like to go over all the outstanding contracts on the books and get a feel for what’s coming up in the next few weeks. Can you get me a schedule when you have a few minutes?”

“I post a calendar in the design center at the beginning of every week,” Edie said. “I’ll make you a copy if you’d like.”

“Thanks. That will help, but a week at a time isn’t quite enough lead time for me. Can you get me the schedule for the next couple of months? Or tell me where to look, and I’ll find it myself.”

Edie slowly returned her cup to its position behind the monitor, and I witnessed her inner control freak spark to life. “The next couple of months? I thought you were only going to be here for a few days.”

“Probably a week at most. I just want to make sure I have everything lined up for Miss Frankie when I leave.”

“Everything is already lined up,” Edie said. “I know how to do my job, Rita.”

I held up both hands to show that I meant no harm. “I know you do. Philippe wouldn’t have hired you if you didn’t.”

Clearly unimpressed by my backpedaling, Edie rolled her eyes and reached for her computer keyboard. “Whatever.”

I hadn’t meant to offend her, but I decided to leave well enough alone. Everyone was moody thanks to the murder and the attack on Ox. I had to make allowances. “Thanks Edie,” I said to her stiff back. “Let me know when you have the schedule.”

She muttered, “I’ll have it for you by four.”

Pleased with the way I’d handled that, I headed toward Philippe’s office. But I had the feeling that dealing with these people was going to be the death of me.