Just blame Robert

"The ghost is in the attic," one girl said to the other outside my bedroom doors, her voice shaking. "I heard it."

Actually, they were in the yard next door -- the Artist House guesthouse adjoins one side of our rental, and only a fence separates our little sitting area from their garden -- but voices do carry at 2 a.m. (Our big sitting area is adjacent to another guesthouse -- the Pilot House. Living wedged between them is a mixed blessing. On the minus side, you never quite know what your neighbors are going to be like from night to night; on the plus side, they're likely to flee the island in the morning.)

At any rate, it was late, but I am amused by the gullible, so I eavesdropped. The girl and her friend were high-schoolers -- visiting Key West on their own (hello? parents?) -- and had noticed the Ghost Tour stopping in front of the guesthouse the night before. So this night they had taken the tour, and taken the bait.

Before it was a guesthouse, it was the Otto Mansion. . . . And here the legend begins.

". . . One serving girl who had been badly mistreated and was apparently versed in the arts of voodoo gave their son, Robert Eugene Otto (called Gene by his friends), a straw doll that stood about 3 feet tall. It was to be his companion and friend for the entirety of his childhood.

"Gene gave the doll his first name, Robert, and took him with him everywhere. It is said that his parents often heard him upstairs talking to the doll, [with answers] in an entirely different voice. Strange things began to occur as misfortunes began to befall the family, and always Gene would appear, holding Robert in his crisp white sailor suit and proclaiming, 'Robert did it.' Close friends of the family agreed that it was in fact the doll who was somehow to blame. Many claimed to hear giggling coming from the doll or to have caught a glimpse of him running up the steps or staring out the turret-room window at them. . . .

"When his parents died and Gene inherited the house, Robert was rediscovered in the attic. . . . Visitors in the house could hear something walking back and forth in the attic, though no one was up there, and several times demonic giggling interrupted the quiet evenings. More than once it was reported that the doll watched people and mocked schoolchildren from the window of the turret room. Gene, who insisted that Robert was in the attic, was quite surprised to find him in the rocking chair by the turret room window. He seized the doll and took it back to the attic, only to find it again in the rocking chair when he came back down.

"When Gene Otto died in 1972, many thought it to be the end of Robert. Evil, however, never dies. Robert waited patiently until another family bought the house. When their little girl, who was only 10 at the time, found Robert in the attic, she claimed him for her own. She unleashed a chilling hell on herself, claiming that the doll tortured her. Now, more than 30 years later, she steadfastly claims that the doll was alive and wanted to kill her. She is still deeply traumatized. . . .

"But Robert is not the only restless soul associated with the Artist House. When Robert was finally removed [he's now on Ghost Tour T-shirts, and on display at the city's East Martello Museum, clutching his stuffed lion, and curators swear he shifts position], it is said that Anne, the wife of Gene Otto, took up residence in the turret room to guard against the little monster's return. . . ."

- - - -

Their chatter was increasingly breathless, and at a pause -- just the right moment -- from my side of the fence came a small, crinkled, evil voice, cackling louder and louder.

Small screams, fast footsteps, slammed door, locked bolt.

It was Robert.