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The bartender's 7 year old daughter comes in the back door, unaware of any tension in the room. "Lucinda, go find your mother," the bartender orders. He places the half-polished glass on the shelf behind him without taking his eyes off the creeping figure. All three Mats push their martinis away and prepare to stand.
"I'm not Lucinda, Dad! Can't you get it right?" As she speaks, the girl notices the stranger.
"Lucinda, Susan, Katey -- whichever you are, go! Now!" The bartender barks.
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