“Arthur came through the nurses’ station at seven,” Helen said.

She tossed her paper towel into a metal bin by the chapel door.

“He insisted on seeing Margaret’s visitor restriction log,” Helen said.

“Did the night clerk hand it over?” I asked.

“I pulled the file off the clipboard before he got to the desk,” Helen said.

She took a folded sheet of blue chart paper out of her scrub top pocket and held it out to me.

I took the page and held it under the light of the brass lamp.