I've had a particularly easy day at work today, and when the office clock struck five, no one else in the headquarters was as eager to pack up and head home as I was. Once I have fully (and properly, of course,) endorsed the paperwork to that evening's senior officer, I bundled up in my coat and headed out of the police HQ.

Like all young, working mothers, nothing takes the stress of a whole day's work away quite like the sound of my twins' laughter. To take the main thoroughfare would mean a thirty-minute walk to the docks, but if I went through the side streets and past the Lotus Mansion, I could easily slash ten minutes off of my travel time. Since I know Republic City like the back of my hand, my feet automatically take me to the quickest route towards the docks – and Air Temple Island.

The Lotus Mansion, despite its name, doesn't even come close to our Gaoling home. Owned by a prosperous family of mixed heritage, it is a squat, rather dull building with a façade of red brick and amber-tinted glass. Having been built during the younger days of the city, it still retained the classical Earth Kingdom architecture which featured sloping tiled roofs and latticework windows.

I cross the street towards the said building. It has long since outlived its purpose – Mom used to say that the Lotus Mansion was like a clubhouse for the Republic City elite, and that it gave the police force a considerable headache whenever an event was staged there. Nowadays, the Lotus Mansion serves as a hotel-slash-apartment building, I guess with the same steep price tag it used to have back in the day. I wouldn't know, of course – when I joined the police, this place has already been replaced by jazzier clubs and bars.

As I made it past the great glass doors, I heard a scream.

I turned my head just in time to see a lady, perhaps in her late forties or early fifties, run out the main entrance into the street. She was wearing a light, peach-pink dressing gown with what appeared (to my eyes, at least) like blood at the hem. The lady was screaming for help from no one in particular – the area where the Lotus Mansion is one of the quietest neighborhoods around the city, after all.

Out of habit, I fumbled around my hips for my portable radio, only to realize that I have left it in my office as I ended my shift.

"YOU!" she turned to me with her frenzied eyes. "I KNOW YOU! OFFICER BEIFONG! PLEASE, PLEASE HELP ME!"

Surely this establishment has a phone. For now I need to check the area out. "Calm down, lady. What's the matter?"

"You have to come in, please – there – there's – oh, spirits –"

"Calm down! Let me see what happened!"

She tried to drag me into the building, but I firmly took her hand off my coat sleeve. A burly security guard stood over the reception area, looking rather sweaty and pale. A young woman – the receptionist, probably – looked particularly agitated about something on the front desk. Both of them looked up as I entered the premises.

"Lin Beifong, Republic City Police," I said as I flashed my badge at them. "What's the matter?"

The security guard looked positively relieved. "O-officer Beifong! Thank heavens you're here! My name is Jun – I – I am the –"

"Security guard – I know."

"Yes… yes. You have to help us, ma'am. One of our residents has been murdered."

"Murdered?"

The lady in pink screamed. "YES! Oh my poor, poor husband! I was just bathing, and when I came out he was lying on the floor, drowning in his own blood! It's just horrible."

"I am actually on my way home…"

The lady grabbed my hand. "Please, officer, please stay!"

"I will – but I have to phone for backup. Jun, will you close off the area for me? Do not let anyone go near the crime scene. Where's the phone?"

The receptionist looked at me, her thin lips quivering. "Somebody cut the phone lines, Miss Beifong."

"What the actual fuck is going on here?! Do you mean to tell me that someone snuck into the reception area and just cut off the phone lines without you noticing? How about the phones in the rooms?"

She looked like she was about to cry. "I'm afraid they're all connected here as well, ma'am."

"Don't you have other phones?"

"Well, we do have a separate line for the manager's office, but –"

"But what?'

She gulped. "B-but he has clocked out of work already, ma'am – he has the key to the manager's office; But don't worry, I already sent a – a messenger b-boy to summon him here."

"And where does this manager of yours live?"

"A-across town, ma'am, a few blocks away from the University."

Fuck this. If the messenger boy is on a bike or a car or whatever, it would still take him almost two hours to make it across town and another two back to the Lotus Mansion. I have to call the Crime Investigation Unit right away, otherwise I'd be stuck in here for quite a while. Shit.

Unless – unless I metalbend the door, that is.

But I have to deal with the crime scene first.

"Fine then. No one is to leave this building until I say so. Do you understand me?"

She nodded nervously.

"Now give me a good pen and some sheets of paper. I have to make a report."

Upon interrogation, I found out that the lady's name is Rina Han – forty-seven years old, wife of twenty years to the murder victim, Daisuke Han. They have been renting some rooms from the Lotus Mansion ever since their house, which used to be located at the upscale Magnolia Hills district, burned down two years ago.

I actually remember it – it was a case of suspected arson, but nothing came of it because the investigation team failed to uncover leads. The Hans, however, collected quite a fortune in insurance pay after the incident.

The crime scene was rather unremarkable when compared to the others I have seen throughout my career. Forty-nine year old Mr. Han lay face down on the carpeted floor, his head surrounded by a pool of dark, congealing blood. Aside from the bloody carpet, the room showed no signs of a struggle nor a forced entry. Perhaps Mr. Han knew the murderer personally – a family friend, maybe? Hotel staff?

The newly-widowed Mrs. Han sat on a high backed chair, looking morosely at me, as if she was expecting me to say something. I cleared my throat. "Your husband –"

" – Was a good man," she interjected, her voice gravelly. "I don't know who could have done this."

"I have to ask you a few things."

"I didn't kill him," she whispered.

"I wasn't saying you did. I just want to know who the people with you in this building are. You told me earlier that when your Magnolia Hills home burned down two years ago, you've rented out some rooms here. May I know who moved in with you here?"

"Our children, Miho and Taka, came with us when we moved."

"Household staff? Drivers? Er – butlers?"

Mrs. Han gave a little cough. "No one else. We dismissed the entire staff when the house burned down."

"And may I know how many rooms are you renting right now?"

"The entire eastern wing of the second floor."

Carefully, I folded the sheet of paper I was holding and put it in my coat pocket. How – no – why would a family of four rent an entire wing? I considered the room I was in once more. It was bigger than our bedroom at Air Temple Island, and judging from the small closet and the sparse perfume bottles and makeup on the vanity, the couple didn't have a lot of stuff with them.

I need the floor plan.

With Mrs. Han secure in the employee's quarters, I – with Jun the guard in tow – made my way to the manager's office at the third floor. That pipsqueak of a receptionist tried to stop me, but once I threatened her with a lawsuit for obstruction of justice, she shut her yapper and yielded to me.

"How will you open it?" Jun wondered out loud.

Without any difficulty, I bent the lock open.

The manager's office was rather typical – a huge desk was in the middle of the cramped office space, surrounded by tall, dull grey filing cabinets. Beside the door was a peculiar, lion-moose antler-shaped coat rack and an even more peculiar umbrella basket shaped like an air bison's foot (which I hope isn't an actual, hollowed-out foot). A rusty fan hung above the desk, its electrical wires looking like they are in need of repair. I made a mental note of this potential fire hazard. I look at Jun. "Any idea where the manager keeps the floor plan?"

"I think it's in the cabinet to the left," he replied.

"Go retrieve it. I need to phone HQ."

Never in my life have I looked with relief at a telephone. It sat there, in the middle of the desk, all black and gleaming. Gingerly, I dialed the headquarters. A sleepy female voice picked up.

"This is Lin Beifong. Connect me to Saikhan – immediately."

A beep, and then Saikhan picked up. "Hello?"

"Saikhan! It's Lin."

"Eh? Lin?"

"I need people right now."

There was a pause. On the background, I could hear soft murmurs and the typical sounds of the office. "Saikhan!"

"You clocked out an hour ago!"

"Well guess what – somebody's been murdered and I was the one who happened to be walking by! Now quit asking me stupid questions and start sending some men to the Lotus Mansion right now, or I'm telling the chief."

Saikhan scoffed. "Please, it is so like you to go running to your mom –"

"Quit babbling, you dunderhead! Get your big ass in here now!"

Jun shakily laid a folder in front of me. "I – I – I got it, ma'am."

"How long have you been working here, Jun?" I asked, pointing to the seat in front of the desk. Jun sat down and took a deep breath.

"Two years, ma'am."

If he's been here for two years, I bet he knows about the daily activities of the Hans. "And you've seen the Han family move in?"

"Oh – oh no, no – no ma'am. They've been here at least a year before I came to work for the Lotus Mansion," he replied.

"A year?"

"Yes ma'am – Chien, the guard who works the graveyard shift, told me so."

Well, this is getting interesting. "Tell me more, Jun."

Jun wrung the hem of his crisp white shirt. He seemed nervous. "Well, Chien said that when the Han family moved into this building, they brought with them lots of stuff – I heard from the other staff that they had all sorts of knick-knacks with them. I heard they had large, antique mirrors, paintings of people and scenery, bending scrolls – you know, the things rich people have."

I started to dial the phone again. It's past six in the evening – Tenzin's probably home. "Go on, Jun. I'm listening."

"They moved here – Mr. and Mrs. Han, and their children. I haven't seen the son around very much, but I've seen a lot of the daughter. I think her name's Miho – she's a student at the university."

No one's picking up. Shit. "And the son?"

"If I remember correctly, he's off managing some family business over at the Fire Nation. I've only seen him twice."

I dialed another number. A few rings, and I was greeted by my mother's familiar drawl. "Toph Beifong speaking, who's this?"

"Mom, it's –"

"Baby girl! What's up?" she asked, her voice suddenly perking up.

"I'm at Lotus Mansion right now. Something came up."

"Huh? I thought you went home already! Oh boy – Twinkletoes junior is not gonna be happy about this. Have you called for backup?"

"I know. I already called Saikhan, he's gonna come over with his men –" I looked pointedly at Jun, who was preoccupied with wringing the hem of his shirt. "Jun, can you take this folder downstairs at the lobby? I'm gonna take a good look at the stuff in there."

"Well you should file this as overtime, you know, 'cause you need the dough to buy nappies," Mother teased.

Jun hurried out the door, folder in hand. "Quit horsing around, Mom. I need you to call Air Temple Island and tell them I'm running late."

"Sure thing, kid. Take care."

I sigh, hanging up. I hope Mom won't forget.

A/N: What do you guys think? I'll be introducing a new character in the next installment. Read and review, as usual. :) It;'s nice to be back here!