Amber Martin looked different. The long shoulder-length auburn wig had been replaced by her natural hair: an attractive, light brown bob trimmed neatly at the nape of her neck and falling to a point halfway down her ears. To the casual observer, this was not the same woman who, a few hours earlier, casually and deliberately shot and killed a young bank teller while in the process of robbing the bank of a million dollars in cash.
In a booth tucked away in a secluded corner of Tempo, a newly-opened wine and cocktail bar in Lasseters Casino Resort, Amber sipped at her mango martini and surreptitiously studied the other patrons in the bar. She had been in the wine bar for only thirty minutes and had already been hit on twice. The first time had been by a grossly intoxicated, overweight slob w
