Jonathan: A Fanfiction Novel

October 7

I can only think of one solution.

It comes in the form of a man named Ross Crane, who meets me at a diner downtown. Or, he's supposed to, but we were supposed to meet at four, and it's two minutes past. I consider leaving, but then I see him striding over to the table. I sit up. It's important he takes me seriously.

"Jonathan," he says, I stand up to shake his hand.

"Mr. Crane," I affirm.

"Ross, is fine, please. Can I get a coffee?" he asks a nearby waitress. "You're a tea drinker?" He gestures at my drink. "Must have missed that in the report,"

I'm not sure he meant him or me, but I go to explain that I didn't put it in the report, but he cuts me off with a smile and reassuring hand on my shoulder.

"Relax, kid. It's PI humor," he says. "You know, when I saw in the report that you are both the client and the mark, it didn't even surprise me. I've seen weirder. So much weirder!" He exclaims. I think he's trying to entice me to ask, even though I know he won't say because of the confidentiality contracts, which of course, I signed right away, after reading thoroughly. "So, what exactly are you?"

"Can I see the report, please?" I say.

"You're the customer," he shrugs. "You lead a boring life, but consistent,"

"Everyone has a routine," I defend. I need to stick to my routine so everything goes smoothly for John, but of course, he doesn't know that. He doesn't know it's John he's been following for the past week.

"Well, you run yours like a German train. Anyway, 8:30PM, Tuesday, you left your house, walked three blocks, got a deli coffee, regular, no sugar. You took the train to Madison and 56th, where you work part-time as a temp for the law firm there... and part-time as an architect at Hans Leiber?" He says it like a question, and I nod. Maybe it was a question. Those are two very different careers, for two different kinds of people. "You left work at 1:37AM and went straight home."

"Is there a night I did anything different?"

"Uh, yes. On Friday... you left work at 1:26AM, went to a bar called The Rialto, sat for two beers until your girlfriend finished her shift." I nearly choke.

"Girlfriend?" I said, trying not to make my voice as shaky as I feel. John knows the rules. The rules are why we work, why everything we do works.

"Dude, if that's your sister, I'm calling the cops- or a priest. Yeah, your girlfriend. Elena Kaminsky. You sat there after the bar closed and she cleaned up. Then you left to her place where you presumably..." he trails off, not wanting to mention it in public. He's pretty conservative for a private investigator.

"How long was I there for?" I ask, almost not wanting to know the answer. Need overpowers want, especially in this case.

"You left at 5:50AM, and then ran home. You literally ran home. What's the rush, kid?"

"Do you have photos?" I dodge the question. He sneaks a flash drive onto the table, as if hiding it from someone, even though the only other person involved is definitely not here, (though, as far as he's concerned, it only involves us two, which makes less sense.) I pick it up like a normal person and put it in my pocket.

"Do you think the girl's cheating on you or something? Cause if that's the case, I'm following the wrong person, but if you want my opinion, she seems like a good person. Sincere, even." He says this all in one breath, wanting to make sure his opinion got out before I could stop him, not that I care one way or the other. This is about John, not Elena- although she is the main topic with him.

"How much do I owe you?"

At home, I go through all the pictures on the flash drive. He may be conservative, but he's thorough. There's several pictures of John for a single action- including kissing Elena. There's about seventy of these, and with each action shot I'm more and more bewildered, watching my brother lean into her, and finally, touch his lips to hers. I didn't want to believe it, but there's the proof.

The proof of John, the Liar.