Sylvie slipped into the back seat beside Auntie and closed the car door.
The sounds of the street were immediately gone. The inside of the car was a soundproof, luxurious bubble. It was almost like being in a submarine, cut off from the world outside. Even the tint to the windows made the few people in the street seem odd, like cut-outs from magazines pasted on to the glass, weirdly flat and colourless. Sylvie wondered why a police commissioner wanted to feel so isolated?
‘So, Anthea, have you found my suitcase, eh?’ Auntie asked.
‘Please put your seat belts on,’ Anthea said smoothly.
‘Or have you found out who broke into our flat?’
Anthea didn’t reply. She turned the radio on. Classical music flooded the car from speakers hidden discreetly in the upholstery.
‘Ah, Brahms,’ the commissioner said.
‘What about my case?’
‘Why don’t you just enjoy the music while I drive?’
‘Where are we going?’ Sylvie asked. ‘We’re looking for my friend Minnie. She might be walking to my house. It’s the next left.’
Anthea took the next right.
They were headed away from town.
Sylvie looked at Auntie in alarm. Her skin began to prickle. What on earth was going on?