The only dancer in the house relaxes in lingerie and sips a soda at the bar inside the front door of the Olympic Garden.

Her name is Meli. She’s Bosnian and willowy and hasn’t come here to work the room, but to put in time and pick up a check without performing a single lap dance. After working the neon runway nights for six years, this is an easy day. She usually dances nude in Northtown.

With its polished poles abandoned on the darkened stage, this once-bustling topless club on Las Vegas Boulevard is sweltering and all but empty. No music plays. Drug addicts stripped the copper from the commercial air conditioners long ago, and a roaring industrial fan is all that circulates the stifling air.

Signs posted inside and out read, “Prostitution is unlawful” and “Alcoholic Liquor is not sold here.” Under the portico near the once-jammed valet stand, a homeless man sleeps in a heap like a pile of dirty laundry. Dante and Virgil would feel at home here.

Larry Bertsch joins Meli at the bar. He’s a longtime Las Vegas CPA and financial forensics expert who has worked on some of the Strip’s biggest bankruptcies. The strip club bankruptcy isn’t the strangest case he’s ever had, and he’s shepherded the business through the reorganization process as a court-appointed supervisor, special master, and now licensed custodian.

The idea is to eventually get this haunted mansion sold to new owners, who plan to revamp it and put it back in business. Its bankruptcy came after a multimillion-dollar judgment against one of the club’s part-owners. Afroditi Eliades-Ledstrom was found liable in the March 17, 2007 traffic death of 27-year-old UNLV graduate Michael Ponzio. It’s not much of a stretch to believe Ponzio’s death continues to haunt the Eliades family after a decade.

Once a month for the past year, Bertsch has played club manager for an eight-hour shift at the Olympic Garden in order to meet city business license regulation requirements as the joint makes its way through a laborious bankruptcy and sale process. Having a dancer on duty is part of the deal.

“This (zoning) is what they call nonconforming here,” Bertsch says, explaining the bit of bureaucratic theater taking place. Once a month, the doors have to open, security must be present, a dancer with a work card must report for duty, and a manager with a sexually oriented business license must be in charge. City licensing drops by along lawyers associated with the bankruptcy and the pending sale. No drinks served, no dances unless Meli feels the urge to stretch her legs.

“Meli, thank God, she’s got the license and everything that we need,” Bertsch says. “I follow the rules. I don’t really think it’s silly. There’s a lot of legal stuff. It’s all in the basket right now. And we’re going to have to get to the end of that basket so that it becomes legitimate and it does what it’s for.”

Some Southern Nevadans scoff at the prospects of a notorious topless joint returning to life, but Bertsch is a Vegas realist. The Boulevard isn’t Disneyland. There aren’t many milk drinkers here, and the sex business in all its forms generates endless millions in Las Vegas.

Lawyers for the bankruptcy and prospective buyer come and go. A couple of homeless men are gently turned away at the door. The afternoon passes without incident. City licensing employees will come by, check the licenses, and take pictures to add to file.

“We’re open, according to the law,” Bertsch says, reciting a long list of duties required by state and federal courts. It’s less glamorous duty than when he served as the chief financial officer at Caesars in Atlantic City, but in the end it’s all forensic accounting.

Business is business on the bump-and-grind end of the Boulevard. With the right operators, this place could generate millions again.

“I moved here in ’73,” Bertsch says. “When you do this stuff, you do it right, and that’s what we’re trying to do is comply with the law and do it right. ... We want to comply with the law so they can get it reopened and become an economic base. People make money with this, which is good for our economy and the city.”

Although she declines specifics, Meli says the 9-to-5 shift pays pretty well. She doesn’t have to work to, as she puts it, communicate with customers.

“I take care of her because she is so needed, such a nice person, and we have to get it done,” Bertsch says. “Boy is she reliable. She’s here on time. She’s got the proper licenses. So I can accomplish what the city demands.”

So, you’re a cabaret mogul for a day?

The only dancer in the house smiles.

Larry Bertsch just laughs at the question.

John L. Smith is a longtime Las Vegas journalist and author. Contact him at [email protected]. On Twitter: @jlnevadasmith.