Page 55 of Wild Sentinel

It took about half an hour. This was probably the only time of day when there wasn't traffic in Los Angeles.

This strip glowed with neon and buzzed with nightlife. The posh clubs all had lines to get in. Cars cruised up and down the boulevard.

Our driver dropped us off at Eclipse. JD and I hopped out. It was a trendy bar that was all the rage.

We marched toward the front of the line. I flashed my badge and didn't stop moving. The bouncer unhooked the velvet rope and motioned us through. We stepped into the club, moved past the cashier with another wave of the badge, and entered the exclusive venue.

Deafening music pumped, and lights swirled. Bodies bumped on the dance floor. Waitresses in skimpy hotpants scurried about. Trendy, dim, and lots of atmosphere. Overpriced drinks and lush, cozy couches. The VIP area let celebrities have fun without getting mobbed by fans.

There were plenty of slinky dresses, long legs, high heels, and plunging necklines.

Eclipse was definitely THE place to be on the strip—at least tonight.

We made our way to the VIP section, and another flash of the badge got us beyond the velvet rope. All it takes is the right attitude. Wherever you go, that’s where you belong.

It was packed with the super wealthy and a few celebrities. I recognized familiar faces—a rock star, a rapper, a sports hero. Waitresses served bottles, girls danced, and the party raged. More than a few people had the sniffles from nose candy.

JD and I ambled up to the VIP bar. I displayed my badge once again and showed the bartender a picture of Molly Dean. "You remember seeing this girl with Nick Shaw about six weeks ago?"

He looked at the image for a few seconds, then shook his head. "Can't say that I do."

"Nick Shaw frequents this place on a regular basis, doesn’t he?" I said.

"I really don't like to talk about who comes here and who doesn’t. I just serve drinks."

"I believe Molly was murdered," I said, pointing to the picture again.

The bartender shrugged. "Sorry. What do you want me to say?"

I gave him an annoyed look, then stepped away from the bar and flagged down a waitress. She was a cute brunette and had a bubbly personality.

I smiled. "How are you this evening?"

"I'm fantastic! What can I do for you? You look like you could use a drink."

"Actually, I'm looking for this girl,” I said, showing her the flyer. “She was in here six weeks ago with Nick Shaw. Maybe you remember seeing her?”

She studied the image for a moment. "Maybe she looks familiar. I don't know. I see a lot of faces. Nick is in here a lot with a lot of different women.” Her full lips scrunched. “I feel sorry for his girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?"

"Alexia, the model.”

I gave her a blank look.

“Where have you been? Under a rock?”

I laughed. "I didn’t know who the guy was before today."

"Why are you interested in him?"

"I'm beginning to think he killed Molly."

Her eyes rounded. "No shit?"

I nodded.

She frowned and said, "I wish I could help you, but I honestly don't know if she was with him or not." She paused. "You should talk to Xavier," she said, pointing to a big guy standing at the far end of the VIP lounge near a private exit. "A lot of celebrities come in through the back door. Xavier is the one who escorts them in and out. A lot of times, celebrities don't want to be seen. Sometimes they do. Nick has a habit of sending his driver around the back to pick up his concubines while he exits the front door for the paparazzi. That way, when they publish the pictures, his girlfriend can see he's leaving the club alone. She lives in New York. I don't know what she's thinking. I mean, Nick is hot and all, but a long-distance relationship with Nick Shaw? That guy can’t keep it in his pants. But maybe she’s screwing around too.”