The Mystery of Alicia Quirico

THE MYSTERY OF ALICIA QUIRICO

“Lady, are you okay? Are you hurt? Can we help you?”

“Where are you heading?” Answered her to a couple of young Architects driving a Citroen, a tall, white, female, wearing a white outfit slightly battered by the tropical wind. Santo Domingo to the airport highway, 1978.

“Did you have an accident? Asked her Angel, a strong, square faced, big hands and outspoken 'twenty something'  rooky Architect. He was driving this night. The other one was his partner Albert.

It was around 10 o’clock. Clear night. Weekday. The two men were on their way to the airport to pick up a friend coming from Puerto Rico on a late flight. On the radio, HIABC's ‘The Sound of Music’ -jazz and blues- broadcast.

That highway at night was quiet, isolated, warm and mysterious. The distance from the city to the airport was a mere 17 miles, all of them with the Caribbean Sea one side. The 4-lane concrete road was also flanked by an endless line of the ubiquitous coconut trees all along. At night, the always emerald-color seawaters looked dark gray with waves lighted occasionally here and there like by a brilliant spider net.

It was a time ending a tragic political era. For 12 years, fierce political opponents fought each other day after day. One side, the 'conservative', held the other with a rather simple system: physical elimination. Methodic, calculated, efficient. A couple of victims a week. Young people mostly. Many times in the highway to the airport. No mercy.

The other side… answered with public marches, one-sheet newspapers, telephone calls and –also- bullets. Young guys fell down from both sides every week. On July 1978, a month before a change of administration, the whole country was in despair. Four decades of FEAR, the old and powerful dictators’ formula were coming to an end. Presidential palace was lit also at this hour. Cardboard boxes were been loaded with papers. Lamps, desks, paintings, brass and old black telephones either. Messengers, drivers, secretaries, assistants… spies and loyal bodyguards, now in stampede, were all around. Looking in silence. Only a bad joke here. An anguish tone there.

The...'ambiance', was like a captain abandoning ship.

He was.

They had lost the old war. They could kill them all and now, the 'others' were taking command. Fear was on their side now…

“Are you alone? I… think I know you… are you Alicia? I think we met before. In that party of… What are you doing here? This is a very dangerous part of the highway. Please, Albert, open the door for Alicia. Don’t you remember her?”

“Sorry man. Nope.”

“Yeah man, its Alicia… that bombshell of Santo Domingo High. I always wanted to…you know…”

“You always want to bang them all, man.”

“No, no, no… this is serious. It must have been an ugly accident. You know that a lot of 'accidents' did happen here. Man… let’s get out of here fast.”

“You okay, Alicia. You look pale.”

“I’m okay…. Bring me back. That’s all. I… did have an accident tough. A car accident. Not my car.”

“Your boyfriend’s car… I suppose…”

“I cannot say. I’m exhausted. Just want to recline here and eased. Need some rest, that’s all. Don’t drive fast, please. I’m scare.”

“Albert, where’s the next detour?”

“I don’t know man.”

They found Alicia some 10 miles east the city. Hence, more or less half the way. A roughly half an hour drive back. As soon as they left her somewhere, they will return to the airport, traffic was very light at this hour… so in 20 minutes they stopped at the front door of Alicia’s house. Angel remembered…

“You sure you okay, Alicia”?

“I'm okay, Angel. See you.”

“Okay man… let’s go back. We have time to pick up that guy and be in Santo Domingo before one o’clock. Hit it!


2


Next day. 11 o’clock. Angel’s parent house:

"Guess who we picked up last night in the highway? Alicia Quirico."

“Angel… you sure? Asked Angel’s sister with a low tone. Then she looked rapidly to the other people in the living room.

“We did saw her" -Answered Angel- "We picked her up on the highway and brought her back to the city. We though it was an accident… you know, another 'accident'… and she was, there. Standing on one side. Dressed with a white gown. I think I can remember even some drops of blood over his right shoulder.” Explained Angel.

“Angel… don’t you read the newspapers? What? What is it? Why are you guys so pale? Asked again Angel's sister. Then turning to her brother, she lowered her voice tone and added:

“That was Alicia, Alicia Quirico. She was killed in a car accident last night. Around ten o’clock…in the highway with her boyfriend. Nobody knows where he is…”

THIS IS A TRUE STORY.