Andreas Gullestad was swift to reply that he had no guns in the flat, and had not seen evidence of one in any of the other flats. But he sat deep in thought for a few moments in response to my question about the blue raincoat and then answered gravely: ‘I definitely did not see any blue raincoats in the building on the day of the murder, but there was a day last summer when I saw an unknown man here on the stairs in a large blue raincoat with a red scarf over his face.’
Naturally, I was extremely interested in this information and asked for further details. Gullestad concentrated hard for a minute or so before answering.
‘I am fairly sure that I saw a man in a blue raincoat here last year. It struck me as odd as it was nice weather that day, with no moisture in the air, and I speculated for a while who the mysterious man might be visiting. The exact date escapes me, but it may have been the Whitsun weekend. For a while I wondered if it was perhaps in connection with a carnival or some other festivity, but I’m afraid I don’t remember much more.’
I could not quite let this unexpected glimpse of the man in the raincoat go and asked if he was sure that it had been a man. Gullestad took a moment to reflect before he answered. He certainly seemed to be a conscientious and reflective witness.
‘I believe so, as the person seemed to be rather tall, but I would not like to swear to it. I only saw him in passing, and it is not always easy to know what a raincoat like that might be hiding.’
Andreas Gullestad told me that he himself was originally from a small place near Gjøvik in Oppland. And despite the early death of his father, he had had a very privileged childhood. Following his mother’s death when he was twenty-five, he had inherited his father’s fortune, which was so substantial that, if his consumption was moderate, he could live well on it for the rest of his life. He had deposited most of it in the bank and invested the rest in stocks, which thus far had provided a ‘very tidy’ profit. The accident that had left him disabled had of course been a shock and marked a dramatic change in his life, but it had, nonetheless, been less catastrophic for him than it might have been for many others. As there was no pressure to earn a living, he had previously studied a bit here and there in his twenties, and had otherwise lived a very pleasant life. With another small, self-deprecating smile, Andreas Gullestad commented: ‘And now I largely just sit here all day with the television, the wireless, my books and the newspapers. But sadly, that is also what I did in my previous flat, before the accident. The main difference is that these days I pay for someone else to do my shopping without feeling guilty.’