night after night, Melody went to the beach to stare out at the sea. Some think she walked out into the water. I believe she saw a light out at sea and simply tried to get a closer look. At any rate, she didn’t believe Hagen had drowned. She was certain he was out there somewhere. And, in searching for him, she was drowned herself. Neither her body nor Hagen’s was ever discovered. And because they weren’t given a good Christian burial, they are said to have remained behind in spirit form, together at last for all eternity.”
“What a sad story,” Maddie said.
“Hagen’s and Melody’s spirits can sometimes be seen right here in this house. Melody often walks the widow’s walk on the roof, searching the sea for her missing lover. Hagen comes to the door seeking Melody, or he stands looking up at her window, singing to her. Local records show he often came to serenade her. Hagen and Melody were tragic lovers and, some say, are now doomed to haunt Key West until they come to peace with themselves—or the world. Anyway, everyone have their water? We’ll head on down the street, and I’ll tell you the story of the poor woman I consider Key West’s most tragic haunt, Elena de Hoyos.”
“We’ve already heard something about Elena,” Tobie said excitedly.
“And Robert the Doll,” someone else said.
Hannah said, “We’ll go by Artist House, too.” She looked across the room and caught Agent Samson watching her with a gleam of amusement in his eyes.
Fine, be a skeptic, she thought.
But, of course, he probably knew all the Key West legends, seeing as he was from here. Still, she thought, it did seem as if he’d enjoyed her rendition of this one and its connection to her house.
Hannah led her crowd down toward Simonton Street and stopped across from the Dean Lopez Funeral Home.
“This,” she began, “is another story of love gone awry—and the strangest thing about this story is that it’s fairly recent history, and everything I have to tell you is true and documented. It all began over eighty years ago.
“Maria Elena Milagro de Hoyos, a lovely Cuban-American, was born in 1910. In 1930, she came down with tuberculosis. At the time, it was still an incurable disease. She received her diagnosis when she came to the United States Marine Hospital in Key West. Elena was dark haired, vivacious, filled with life—loved by her family, but perhaps not so much by her husband, who left her almost immediately after the diagnosis. There was a German-born radiologist at the hospital named Carl Tanzler, who went by the name Count Von Cosel. He was thirty-three years older than Elena, but he saw her and he was in love.”
“Yuck!” someone said.
Everyone turned to look. It was one of the young girls in the group—Belinda, Hannah thought.
Belinda cleared her throat awkwardly. “He was...what? Fifty-three? And she was twenty? That’s gross.”
Hannah laughed. “I never said that Elena fell in love with Carl Tanzler, just that Carl Tanzler fell in love with Elena. But that was how things stood. Elena had a husband, but he wasn’t about to stick around as his lovely young wife sickened and died. And in fact Tanzler had a wife, but she lived up in Zephyr Hills. So he convinced the family that he could treat Elena with all his radiology equipment and save her. He visited her house and ingratiated himself with the family. But poor Elena died despite his best efforts. Her wake was held right here at the Dean Lopez Funeral Home, which, as you can see, remains in business today. Tanzler offered to buy Elena a beautiful mausoleum at the Key West Cemetery, and she was laid to rest. But here’s where it starts to get really creepy. Tanzler visited her nearly every day, playing music for her, reading to her, speaking to her constantly of his undying love. This went on for two years, and then Tanzler suddenly stopped visiting.”
“I know!” Tobie Rosewood said. “He stole her body!”
“Yes. He stole her
“What a sad story,” Maddie said.
“Hagen’s and Melody’s spirits can sometimes be seen right here in this house. Melody often walks the widow’s walk on the roof, searching the sea for her missing lover. Hagen comes to the door seeking Melody, or he stands looking up at her window, singing to her. Local records show he often came to serenade her. Hagen and Melody were tragic lovers and, some say, are now doomed to haunt Key West until they come to peace with themselves—or the world. Anyway, everyone have their water? We’ll head on down the street, and I’ll tell you the story of the poor woman I consider Key West’s most tragic haunt, Elena de Hoyos.”
“We’ve already heard something about Elena,” Tobie said excitedly.
“And Robert the Doll,” someone else said.
Hannah said, “We’ll go by Artist House, too.” She looked across the room and caught Agent Samson watching her with a gleam of amusement in his eyes.
Fine, be a skeptic, she thought.
But, of course, he probably knew all the Key West legends, seeing as he was from here. Still, she thought, it did seem as if he’d enjoyed her rendition of this one and its connection to her house.
Hannah led her crowd down toward Simonton Street and stopped across from the Dean Lopez Funeral Home.
“This,” she began, “is another story of love gone awry—and the strangest thing about this story is that it’s fairly recent history, and everything I have to tell you is true and documented. It all began over eighty years ago.
“Maria Elena Milagro de Hoyos, a lovely Cuban-American, was born in 1910. In 1930, she came down with tuberculosis. At the time, it was still an incurable disease. She received her diagnosis when she came to the United States Marine Hospital in Key West. Elena was dark haired, vivacious, filled with life—loved by her family, but perhaps not so much by her husband, who left her almost immediately after the diagnosis. There was a German-born radiologist at the hospital named Carl Tanzler, who went by the name Count Von Cosel. He was thirty-three years older than Elena, but he saw her and he was in love.”
“Yuck!” someone said.
Everyone turned to look. It was one of the young girls in the group—Belinda, Hannah thought.
Belinda cleared her throat awkwardly. “He was...what? Fifty-three? And she was twenty? That’s gross.”
Hannah laughed. “I never said that Elena fell in love with Carl Tanzler, just that Carl Tanzler fell in love with Elena. But that was how things stood. Elena had a husband, but he wasn’t about to stick around as his lovely young wife sickened and died. And in fact Tanzler had a wife, but she lived up in Zephyr Hills. So he convinced the family that he could treat Elena with all his radiology equipment and save her. He visited her house and ingratiated himself with the family. But poor Elena died despite his best efforts. Her wake was held right here at the Dean Lopez Funeral Home, which, as you can see, remains in business today. Tanzler offered to buy Elena a beautiful mausoleum at the Key West Cemetery, and she was laid to rest. But here’s where it starts to get really creepy. Tanzler visited her nearly every day, playing music for her, reading to her, speaking to her constantly of his undying love. This went on for two years, and then Tanzler suddenly stopped visiting.”
“I know!” Tobie Rosewood said. “He stole her body!”
“Yes. He stole her
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