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words carefully. “I think you’re understandably excited by the idea of having the world’s oldest living person here at the Clarkson. But I’ll be frank with you. There’s no one at the Longevity Project who would go for this. A birth certificate without any other supporting documentation is not a crediblelead.”
    â€œDo you really think so?” She sighed. “But what if she reallyis—”
    I shook my head emphatically. “The LP requires us to verify a person’s age based on very strict guidelines. There have to be at least three official documents that correlate a person’s age and name, and that’s just for starters. Then there’s positive identification by living sources and the censusdata.”
    â€œBut,” Edna said, her eyes beginning to glint. “What if you investigated? You would be able to clear up this whole thing. I know you would! You’re a historian—a distinguished university professor. You would know how to figure out who she reallyis.”
    I stood up, annoyed with myself for getting trapped so easily. “You know I’m trying to finish a book this summer, and I’vegot—”
    â€œBut I don’t think it would take all that long, doyou?”
    She was probably right, but I wasn’t quite ready to throw in the towel. “Why don’t you just ask someone in her family? There’s got to be someone in her family who could clear up this question of herage.”
    She shook her head vigorously. “That’s not an option. I’m not to get in touch with anyone in the family—absolutely not. I’m only to notify them of her death, but otherwise, there’s to be no contact withthem.”
    â€œThat’s prettystrange.”
    â€œGarth.” Edna looked me straight in the eye. “Just think of what this might mean for the home. We’re facing closure, as you well know. But the government wouldn’t dare shut us down. They’d never do it if we had the world’s oldest living person right here under our roof!” Again she hesitated, watching my reaction. “Couldn’t you just try to find out for us? Couldn’t you just try? It’s only that—I trust you. We all trust youhere.”
    We both heard Farley scratching at the door, and I got up to let him in. I’d given him a good scolding for the ruckus he’d made, and he gave me an injured look. He was still covered in dust and what looked like cobwebs, and immediately waddled over to Edna for sympathy. She seemed not to notice and immediately scooped him up, beginning to rub his fat, littlebelly.
    â€œWould you do it—for us? For the home, I mean?” she asked, fondling Farley’s ears. She had taken off her glasses, and now I had two sets of large, imploring eyes trained on me. Just then Farley gave one of his awful sneezes, and Edna was left spattered in an unsightlyooze.
    â€œOkay,” I said, hastily handing her a box of Kleenex. “I’ll tell you what—I’ll look into this. But I’m going to have to do it my way. I’ll need to know the name of the family who put herhere.”
    â€œStewart,” she blurted out. “I know I shouldn’t tell you, but the family are the Stewarts. You know, the really rich ones—the Montreal bankingfamily.”
    â€œThe family of the painter, GeorgeStewart?”
    â€œYes, I believe so. But remember, you didn’t hear it fromme.”
    I stared back at her in surprise. Now why, I wondered, would the celebrated Stewart family shuffle an elderly woman off to a nursing home on the Bruce Peninsula? And hadn’t Miss Brice mentioned a George during ourinterview?
    â€œAnd you didn’t get Miss Brice’s file from me either.” Edna handed me a folder. “I think you should take a look at the paperwork that came with her. If you start asking around about her, you’re only repeating what Miss