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When his car blew up, Peter McCutcheon was enjoying a glass of pinot grigio.

After his performance at the Harbourfront Centre on Friday evening, the tenor joined his wife and some business associates at a table at Toula restaurant near Queens Quay. Their seats afforded sweeping east-facing views of the city. Had they been facing west, he might have noticed a 10-metre tower of flames consuming his 1996 Pontiac Sunfire in a nearby outdoor parking lot.

It wasn't until the next day, Halloween, that Mr. McCutcheon returned to the parking lot. He was still in costume from his performance the night before, and as his kilt blew in the late morning breeze, his efforts to avoid flashing passersby prevented him from noticing the charred pavement.

Then he saw the empty space where he'd parked his car the day before.

Mr. McCutcheon flagged down a parking lot attendant, and, after a second look, noticed a black spot on the asphalt about four metres in diameter.

The attendant explained.

“She said, ‘Oh, your car blew up last night,'” Mr. McCutcheon recalled, lamenting her bedside manner.

The details of how the turquoise two-door vehicle and all its contents, including six pairs of dress shoes and 20 copies of Mr. McCutcheon's soon-to-be-released CD, exploded into flames remain unclear.

A witness saw a man slip something beneath a car and then flee shortly before the Sunfire erupted, said Constable Tony Vella of the Toronto Police Service.

“Thefts of autos, that's something more common,” he said. “This is something of a rarity where someone has caused the vehicle to explode and to catch fire. The intention behind it is still unknown because it's too early to say, but the circumstances are very aggravating. Someone could have been injured, and we're taking this investigation very seriously.”

By 4:30 Saturday afternoon, Mr. McCutcheon was standing in a police impound lot inspecting the charred remains of his car. He bought it four years ago from an elderly woman who stored it in a garage and drove it to and from church. Despite its age, it ran perfectly, and Mr. McCutcheon said there wasn't a speck of rust on it.

Now it is a burned-out skeleton. In the heat of the fire, the crate Mr. McCutcheon used to transport his Yorkshire terrier, Squirt, fused with the car's blackened frame.

“To be perfectly honest, I'm still having some trouble processing the concept that it blew up,” he said. “It wouldn't have been such a shock to hear, ‘Oh somebody hotwired your car and stole it,' or, ‘Somebody rammed into it and it was towed away.' It was such a strange thing.”