All language subtitles for Father Dowling Mysteries S02E13 The Passionate Painter Mystery

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All right, kids.

Now, Sister Stephanie is
passing out these cards,

and you write down your choice

for your confirmation
name, okay?

Now, you guys, your
confirmation name

should be the name of a saint
that you think is really cool.

Somebody that you
really admire, you know.

And I'm talking saints here.

I don't mean, like, TV
stars or rock and rollers

or anything like that.

You know, last year, we had
two Madonnas and a MacGyver.

But they didn't
get away with it.

Good.

I see preparations for the
confirmation are coming along.

The bishop is going
to be so pleased

when he sees how we've
spruced up this church.

Thank you.

Where's Harry Gulliver?

I don't know.

He's supposed to be
retouching the frescoes.

They've got to be finished
before the bishop arrives

for the service on Sunday.

Why isn't he working on them?

Well, he hasn't shown up yet.

Now, Harry's a
wonderful painter, but he's

not the most reliable
person in the world.

You vouched for him, Frank.

Well, I know, and
I'm trying to help him.

Listen, if you're waiting
for Harry Gulliver,

just don't hold your breath.

What do you mean, Marie?

Well, his girlfriend,
Iris, just called.

He's off on another
one of his benders.

I knew it, Frank.

Did she say where he is?

He's at the loft.

He got up this
morning, got drunk,

went over to some art
gallery and slugged the owner.

- Fella named Dennis Cray.
- Oh, no.

- Why did he do it?
- Well, Iris said

this Cray fella bought one of
Harry's paintings for peanuts,

and then he sold it
for a lot of money.

No wonder he went crazy.

- Yeah.
- Let's go.

Could you get their
cards back, please?

- Sister...
- Bye, guys.

Marie, would you help me
collect these cards, please?

Oh, sure.

Get out!

Get out of here!

- Let go! Let go of it!
- What are you doing?

No! Oh, Harry, are
you crazy or what?

What happened?
What's the matter?

Oh, Father Dowling, Sister...

Harry's totally
lost it. Totally.

He's tossing his paintings out.

What's gotten into him?

About a quart of cheap gin.

I can't take it anymore, Father.

I've been Harry's inspiration

and his mistress...
Sorry, Father...

And his nurse and
his cleaning woman

since I was 18.

Well, I have had it.

He's all yours.

Take care of yourself, Iris.

Come on, get away
from me. Get out of here.

Come on, take it
easy, Harry, please.

- Come on!
- Harry!

Harry, what are you doing?

Watch it, Father!

Harry! Harry...

Just stop, Harry.

Calm down.

What do you say we go and
have a cup of coffee, huh?

Shh. Where did
you get this trash?

They're yours, Harry.

You threw them out the window.

Oh.

You want them?

You want them? They're yours.

I'm hanging up my brushes.

Oh!

What... what are
you talking about?

There's no place
in the art world

for painters anymore.

Only thieves, like
that rat, Dennis Cray!

Yes, yes, we know all about
his selling one of your paintings.

It was a lousy thing to do.

But it's no reason to attack
him with your bare hands, Harry.

What else could I do?

I didn't have a gun.

And that's no reason
to destroy your work.

What work? This?

This is junk!

The only good work
I've done in years,

somebody stole
right from this loft.

Harry!

Harry, for God's sake,

you got to stop
behaving like this.

What difference does it make?

I'm finished.

It's all over for me.

The world belongs to
thieves and philistines.

Just take it easy,
will you, Harry?

And you're one of them, Angelo.

You call yourself an artist?

You should paint
clowns on velvet.

I do paint clowns on velvet.

I'm not surprised.

I'm going home.

Nice work, Harry.

First you lost Iris, and now
you've lost your friend, Angelo.

Is that what you want?

Who needs them?

You need something!

You're right.

I need a drink.

Harry, you are killing
yourself with this stuff.

You don't understand.

Dennis Cray ripped me off!

I am emotionally involved!

No, Harry.

You are spoiled and selfish.

You don't drink because
you're emotional.

You drink because
you're a drunk.

- Steve.
- It's true, Frank,

and he knows it.

I'll be outside.

Harry.

What?!

More abuse?

You don't understand
the artistic attitude.

Have a drink.

If you don't put that bottle
down right now, I'm leaving.

And then you won't have anybody
to care what you do to yourself.

Don't let the door hit
you on the way out.

Good-bye, Harry.

God help you.

I really lost it
up there, Frank.

You did.

It's just, he sounds
like my father, Frank.

Smells like my father.

Your father is gone, Steve.

You're yelling at the wrong man.

I know.

It's not going to happen again.

But I don't feel sorry for him.

You don't have to.

Just have a little sympathy
for someone who needs a lift

to the Dennis Cray Gallery.

Do you mind if I ask
you a question, Mr. Cray?

What did you pay
Harry for his painting?

- $500.
- $500.

And only because
I felt sorry for him.

Mm-hmm. How much
did you sell it for?

I was so outraged by
the woman's attitude

that I tossed
out the first figure

that came into my head,

and to my utter
amazement, she said yes.

How much?

$28,000.

Excuse me.

Isn't Harry entitled to
some of that money?

You don't know anything
about business, Father.

Your friend, Harry
Gulliver, is lucky

I don't have him prosecuted
for assault and battery.

Now, what kind of publicity
would that be for you, Mr. Cray?

I can see Harry
getting up in court

and telling his
side of the story.

All right.

I'm willing to drop
the whole matter.

I'll tell him.

Provided he stays away from me.

I'll tell him that, too.

Sorry.

I didn't know you were busy.

Not at all. Hello, Mr. Hewitt.

Good-bye, Father Dowling.

Good-bye.

Half the girls picked
the name Teresa.

That's my confirmation name.

I love St. Teresa.

Mine's Paul, after St. Paul.

What's yours?

Well...

Good afternoon, all.

What's the word
on Harry Gulliver?

Harry? Oh.

Well, he's taking
a short sabbatical.

Maybe a long one.

What about the frescoes?

The bishop is going
to be conducting

a confirmation
service in St. Michael's.

Yes, we all know about
that, Father Prestwick.

He is going to be staring
at unfinished seraphim

and cherubim that
look like teapots.

I'm afraid there's nothing
we can do about it.

Phil, the Vatican has a lot of
frescoes that are unfinished,

need to be
repainted all the time.

Doesn't bother the Pope.

I'm sure the bishop
can handle it.

Yes, but I gave him my word.

And I relied on your
assurance, Frank.

I know, and I'm sorry.

Father Prestwick,
what about some lunch?

I'm too upset, Marie.

What have you got?

Tuna sandwich.

I don't know.

Maybe just one.

Not too much mayonnaise.

Mmm, I'll get it.

Harry.

Father, can I talk to you?

Well, uh, sure, sure.

Come on in the study.

Here.

I'm sorry about the way
I behaved yesterday.

Oh, that's all right.

I don't know what to do.

About what?

Look, I know I have
a drinking problem.

I want to do something about it.

You mean that?

Of course.

I always mean it.

I make a resolution, I try
to straighten my life out,

and something always happens.

I-I don't know
what to do about it.

You've got to help me.

I can't help you unless
you help yourself.

But if you're really
serious about this,

I can put you in touch
with an alcohol abuse clinic.

That's the first step.

All right.

Thank you, Father Dowling.

Mm-hmm.

I'll see you in church
tomorrow morning.

I still have some
frescoes to finish in there.

When you're up to it, Harry.

I'll be up to it.

I feel better already.

You're very good
at your job, Father.

Well, thank you.

I try.

You know, I feel like
doing a little painting.

First time since that
rat Cray ripped me off.

That's a start.

- See you tomorrow.
- Mm.

Look, that church
is perfectly spotless.

The church is about
as far from spot...

Father Prestwick, I'm keeping
my fingers crossed when I say this,

but it looks like
you're gonna get

those frescoes of
yours painted after all.

Really?

In that case, Marie, I
think I'll have a little dessert.

I'll see if there's any pie.

♪♪

Feeling better, Harry?

Oh, I'm fine.

It's just that quack
Dr. Greenberg...

He wants me to stay
overnight for observation.

Angelo Copelli. We
met over at Harry's place.

Oh, yes, yes.

Nice to see you again.

- Hi.
- Hey.

Listen, Harry, we
need to talk to you

- alone for a minute, all right?
- Oh, sure.

Angelo, run downstairs,
uh, get me something...

Juice, something, anything.

Go. Go on.

We're glad you're
feeling better, Harry,

but you've got some
explaining to do.

About what?

Well, the hospital did a
blood screen on you, Harry,

and they found traces of LSD.

What?

All I drank since I left the
rectory was orange juice.

I swear to God.

LSD?

Yeah.

I'd never go near
that kind of stuff.

I mean, not even
in the '60s. I swear.

What happened last night?

I came home, I
felt like working.

So I mixed some colors together
and I started fooling around.

I remember, there
was this picture

of the Devil in my mind.

I-I couldn't get
it on the canvas.

The Devil?

Yes.

The Devil.

I kept seeing this face.

I couldn't concentrate.

I couldn't nail it down. I...

And then, all of a sudden,

the place blew up
and-and I woke up here.

Sure sounds like you
were on something, Harry.

Well, I-I felt kind
of spaced out,

but all I had to drink
was orange juice.

What caused the explosion?

I don't know.

I didn't do it.

I got it.

Someone's trying to kill me.

Now, who would want
to do a thing like that?

Ah.

You don't understand the
art world, do you, Father?

Now, listen.

With me dead, my prices
would go through the roof.

Whoever stole those
paintings of mine from the loft,

they could sell them;
they'd make a fortune!

You probably threw
them out the window.

Never!

Those were my-my nest egg,
my legacy to the world of art.

I'd never touch those canvases.

Harry, you were drunk!

Yes, I was drunk!

I wasn't crazy.

Father, van Gogh...
He sliced off his ear.

He didn't slash
his masterpieces.

Who do you think
might have done this?

If I knew, I wouldn't
be sitting here.

I'd be out there taking care
of them myself, personally.

Okay, let us look into this.

Father, you find
those paintings...

you'll do the world a favor.

Thanks.

Got you some juice.

Oh.

You believe Harry?

I think we ought to
take a look in his loft.

Excuse me.

We're friends of the owner.

Any idea what caused this?

Sure.

The gas was on, the guy
happened to light a cigar.

We're just gonna look
around, if that's all right.

Be my guest, Father.
I'm just leaving.

Thank you.

Harry says he wasn't drinking.

Oh, Steve, I-I know how
strong you feel about this,

but... well, suppose
Harry's telling the truth.

- Frank...
- Well, I know,

but just suppose.

How do I do that?

Well, suppose somebody
slipped him the drug

without his knowledge.

How?

I don't know.

Whoa.

Now, if Harry had eaten that, it
would've killed him on the spot.

Hey.

What are you doing here?

I was gonna ask you
the same question.

Looks like Harry
had quite a night.

Just, uh, came here to
get the rest of my things.

Iris, if those are your
things, don't you have a key?

Yeah.

I just don't know
where I put it.

Mm.

Sister Stephanie?

Oh.

No problem.

See?

My passport, my
Social Security card...

my unemployment book.

Does that satisfy
your morbid curiosity?

Iris, does Harry buy
his own groceries?

Are you kidding?

If I didn't buy Harry's
groceries for him,

he would starve to death.

See ya.

What do you think?

Ain't love grand?

Thanks a lot, Clancy.

The police lab says
that every bottle

in Harry's refrigerator
contained LSD.

So then somebody went in

and spiked everything
in Harry's refrigerator,

so no matter what he
drank, he'd hallucinate.

Right.

Oh, Frank, was I wrong.

Well, we're all guilty
of that sometimes.

Right now, we got to find Harry.

Somebody tried to kill
him once, they'll try it again.

Come on.

♪♪

♪♪

Excuse me, but
visiting hours are over.

This is an emergency.

I'm sorry, Father, we're not
supposed to make any exceptions.

Yeah, but this patient
is in great danger.

Harry? Harry?

Harry!

Harry.

Father.

We just wanted to make
sure you were all right.

I could use some sleep.

Father, please.

This gentleman's
doctor is Sam Greenberg,

who's a very old and
very dear friend of mine.

Now, I happen to know that
he usually makes his rounds

at this hour, and I would
appreciate it if you'd be

kind enough to have
him paged for me, please.

It's very important.

All right.

But that's all.

What's going on?

We're gonna take
you home with us.

Well, what's the rush?

Well, we think someone
is out to get you.

I could've told you that.

I did tell you that.

Well, Frank, your
timing is perfect.

What's the problem?

How are you, Sam?

We'd like to take
Harry home with us,

look after him there.

I don't see why not.

You're very lucky, Harry; it
was just a slight concussion.

Not a mark on you.

I'll sign the discharge.

Thanks, Sam.

Well, my clothes
are in the closet.

No, the other closet.

Thank you.

You could help me
get dressed, Sister.

I'll wait outside, Harry.

Oh, not too strong, Marie.

Remember, I'm on the wagon.

Harry, don't rub it in.

Listen, I really need
to apologize to you.

I told you, forget about it.

I'm used to people
thinking the worst about me.

It's part of my image.

Next question, Harry:

who spiked your juice
with a hallucinogenic drug?

Yeah, nobody came to
your apartment that night

that you can remember?

I was so strung out that
night that all I can remember is

trying to paint, and I
couldn't concentrate.

But I remember
somebody else was there.

I don't know who.

That face...

and it was the
face of the Devil.

I was hoping it would be
someone more accessible.

Yeah, like Iris, for instance.

Iris?

Well, she could have gotten hold

of those stolen paintings
somehow, you know?

Excuse me.

Listen, if Iris was
gonna bump me off,

I'd have been dead already.

Well, Father Prestwick,
we were worried about you.

You didn't show up for dinner.

Oh, that's all right,
Marie. Any dessert left?

I'll see if there's
some ice cream.

Good evening, all.

Phil.

Mr. Gulliver, I heard
you were in the hospital.

It is wonderful to see
you on your feet again.

Where's Steve?

Uh, I think she was going out.

Out? Out where?

I don't know. She was
putting on her coat.

Steve?

Are you prepared for death?

Are you prepared for death?!

This will not bring death.

Death comes in small packages.

We... are the planet.

We... kill ourselves.

Bravo.

Thank you for coming.

Good night.

Iris, what was that, anyway?

Performance art.
How'd you like it?

Very interesting.

Steve, you're a born critic.

That one of Harry's?

Ha! Harry would kill you
if he heard you say that.

No, my six-year-old
niece did that.

The only painting
Harry every gave me,

he slashed one night
when he was drunk.

Harry says someone stole
some paintings from his loft?

You mean ones he didn't
throw out the window?

I mean, you were
there. You saw it.

Look, Sister,

I love Harry,
but all of this talk

about missing paintings
is just another one

of Harry's paranoid fantasies.

But, Iris, what if it isn't?

I mean, this guy, Cray, he
took one of Harry's paintings.

He sold it, he
made a lot of money.

Let me make it
simple for you, Steve.

Harry Gulliver is
not my problem.

And if you'll take my advice,

you won't make him
your problem either.

You'll live to regret it.

Now if you'll excuse
me, I've got things to do.

Where were you last night, Iris?

Steve, I hope you're not
accusing me of doing this

because if I had stolen
Harry's paintings and sold them,

I wouldn't have this
drawer full of bills I can't pay.

Want to take a look
at 'em? Be my guest.

You can have 'em if you want

because I sure as
hell can't pay 'em.

I can't even use this

because the phone
company cut me off.

Look, Iris, somebody
went into Harry's place.

But it wasn't me.

Now why don't you do
me a favor and get out?

Okay.

Yeah!

I was wondering
when you'd call. Yeah.

Father Dowling.

Am I disturbing you?

No, no, come on in.

- Hey, what a nice place, Angelo.
- Yeah.

You seem to be doing very
well for a struggling painter.

Well, I get along.

Better than Harry, it seems.

Oh, Harry could have it all

if he wasn't, you
know, self-destructive.

Mm. Did you know that
somebody tried to kill him?

I hear that all the time. Come
on. Let's have some coffee.

Oh, thanks.

No, this time it's true.

Seems that somebody
slipped a hallucinogenic drug

into his orange juice at
his loft the other night.

You know, instead
of killing him outright,

that drug made it look
like he'd been drinking.

Blew himself up in a alcoholic
stupor. It almost worked.

Harry must have a guardian
angel watching over him.

Yeah, well, he's also
got a potential killer

who may strike again.

I'm just trying to
find out who and why.

Well, I wish I could
help you, Father,

but this is all news to me.

I haven't got a clue.

You know, Harry... he thinks
that someone is stealing

some of his paintings.

And if he's dead, they'll
go way up in value.

Father, Harry never
keeps track of his work.

If he doesn't like
something he's doing,

he paints over
it or throws it out.

One time, I even
saw him set fire

to some stuff he didn't like.

And don't forget,
he's usually so drunk,

he doesn't know what he's doing.

So when he says,
"Somebody stole my paintings,"

well, you got to just take
that with a grain of salt.

You think so?

Absolutely. I know
Harry. He's my best friend.

Yeah. Well, thanks, Angelo.

You bet.

Why is that, by the way?

Why's what?

Why is Harry your best friend?

All I've ever seen him do is

treat you like some
kind of a servant.

Well, I never, I never
said he was easy to take,

but he's a genius.

And, well, you
know, he's just Harry.

That's true enough.

Oh, did I ask you where you
were the night before last?

No. Why?

Well, whoever spiked
Harry's orange juice,

he must have known
an awful lot about him.

Are you accusing me?

No. No, no, no, but I did
have to ask the question.

You don't have to answer.

I, I was here
painting all night.

Thanks again, Angelo.

You find something
out about that,

you let me know, won't you?

Oh, yes. Yes, I will.

Thanks for the coffee.

You like it, Father?

Oh, well, it's, it's, uh, uh,
it's, uh... it's very expensive.

Yes. Well, you're entitled
to your opinion, Father.

Art, like beauty, is in
the eye of the beholder.

I guess it is.

Ha!

The artist at work,

just like Michelangelo
in the Sistine Chapel.

Michelangelo wasn't
interrupted all the time.

Yes, he was.

Pope Julius Il.

When will you be finished?

I don't know.

Michelangelo took
about two, three years.

What is it you want?

I, uh, I-I wanted to see
how you were coming along.

Everybody's a critic.

Go away.

No, I'm entitled to
be here, Mr. Gulliver.

This, this is a
church, you know?

Yeah, well, go pray somewhere.

Stop looking over my shoulder.

Harry, do you know there's a
painting by your friend Angelo

hanging in the Cray
gallery priced at $25,000?

Huh, that's ridiculous.

Angelo couldn't even sell
his stuff to paper a bathroom.

Well, apparently, Mr. Cray
doesn't agree with you.

That's how much he paid
for it. He told me himself.

We think it might be a payoff.

For what?

Maybe for stealing
those missing paintings.

Father Dowling again.

You're developing quite
an interest in modern art.

Well, I must admit
I am fascinated

by some of the
things you have here.

Now there's a real
patron of the arts.

You know her?

Stephanie Oskowski.

Of the Lakeshore
Drive Oskowskis.

She's been extremely
generous to our church.

You don't say.

Excuse me, Father Dowling.

Miss Oskowski, what a pleasure.

I'm Dennis Cray.

How do you do, Mr. Cray?

What a lovely little
place you have here.

You know, I've been meaning
to come by for such a long time

to see if you might
have something for me.

I'd be happy to show you around.

Wonderful.

It's bound to
appreciate in value.

Think of it not only
as a work of beauty,

but as a solid investment.

Fabulous. I'll take it.

Goes with my bag.

Lovely. Shall we
go to my office?

- We'll do the paperwork there.
- Of course.

Let's do it before
I change my mind.

All right.

Here we are, over here.
Come with us. Look at this.

Excuse me.

Would you do
something for me, please?

Would you make it out
to Cray Galleries, please?

- Certainly.
- Thank you.

Yes?

I'll be right there.

Would you excuse
me for a moment?

Take your time, Mr. Cray.

Thank you.

I keep reading these words...

Impressionist, Expressionist...

Here in your catalogue and...

well, I was just wondering
if you'd be kind enough

to explain the difference to me.

You called me out here for that?

Oh, I'm so sorry.

You're busy, eh?

What's that priest
Dowling doing here?

Making a nuisance of himself.

Well, he and that
Sister Stephanie,

with that funny last name,
they're trying to find out

what happened to
Harry's paintings.

Stephanie...

♪♪

That's her, Mr. Cray.

Sister Stephanie, I presume.

Now, just a minute.

Before you do anything
foolish, Mr. Cray...

Your friend here is trespassing.

Yeah, and I found a
great place to do it, too.

Frank, you want to see
eight Harry Gulliver originals?

Hmm?

Here you go.

Well... looks like you two
have some questions to answer.

You may go.

I trust we can discuss
this like reasonable people.

You gonna give us a
reasonable explanation

of how you stole
Harry's paintings

and then tried to kill him?

I took them... That
part of it is true...

But we never, we
never tried to kill Harry.

He's telling you the truth.

I had Angelo take them
without Harry's knowledge.

We figured he'd never
know the difference.

We'd sell them and give Harry
his fair share of the money.

Oh, like you cut
him in last time?

Besides, the night
Harry was almost killed,

Angelo and I were meeting
with a prospective buyer.

That's why I couldn't tell
you where I really was.

Which, by the way, we can prove.

Well, I hope you can.

Because if you didn't
try to kill Harry, who did?

Well, at least Harry
got his paintings back.

You know, Frank, I
would've bet the car

that it was Dennis Cray and
Angelo that wanted to do him in.

Well, if it wasn't, then
that only leaves Iris.

Yeah, I guess Harry gave her
a lot of reason over the years.

Maybe, but she
had no real motive.

Come quick! Harry is
destroying the church!

- What?!
- Hurry!

What are you doing?!

I'm getting it...

it's coming...

I'm getting it...

that face...

I'm getting it... it's here...

Frank, make him stop.

It's the Devil.

I got it.

Sure.

Now I know what happened to me.

Look at that.

Sure.

It's Iris.

Harry... Harry! Wait!

Who's there?

Iris! Let me in!

Iris...

let me in!

It's me... Harry.

I just want to have
a quiet little chat.

Harry, stop it!

Honey, I'm home.

Harry...

Harry!

Easy, easy!

Ah...

Ah!

You're the Devil.

You tried to kill me.

Stay away from
me, I'm warning you!

You hate me!

You've always hated me!

No, no!

No! No, Harry, Harry...

I love you. I love you.

Oh, yeah? Then why did
you try to murder me, huh?

Please, please,
Harry. Calm down...

Calm down?!

Calm down?!

You'll pay for this, Iris.

- No!
- See you in Hell!

Oh...!

Come on...

Stop it!

You'll pay for this!

Iris bought it.

She really thinks
I'm gonna kill her.

And I'm such a sweet guy.

Come on, hurry up.

Whew!

We haven't had an
exhibit like this in years.

I know!

Dennis Cray... I knew it.

Ripped me off, tried
to get Iris to kill me.

Now who's she talking to?

That's Marshall Hewitt.

He's the one who gave
the painting to the museum.

Go to prison, you
can go with me.

He doesn't seem
very happy to see her.

- Harry...?
- Hey!

Geez...!

Harry!

Harry... Harry,
what are you doing?

He's crazy!

No! It's mine!

Call the police!

No, no.

It's an original Gulliver.

I painted this myself.

It's a forgery.

I'm a forger.

I was a forger.

Harry...

I know. I know.

I was young.

I-I needed to survive.

I needed paint and canvas.

And when Hewitt offered me
what appeared to be a small fortune,

just to forge a
couple of pictures, I...

You jumped at it.

And when you decided to donate
the painting to the university,

for a multi-million-dollar
tax write-off,

you couldn't run the risk
that Harry might recognize it

and expose you, so
you hired Iris to kill Harry.

You can't prove any of this.

Oh, I won't have to.

After the police and
IRS get through with you,

you'll have forgotten
all about me.

I think you should take
these people downstairs

and call the police.

Iris, how could you?

Wasn't hard.

Harry, let's go, hmm?

Are you okay?

Too much blue.

All right, all right. Okay,
don't forget to smile.

Now, I need you a
little closer together.

Closer!

Ah, now, hold your breath.

Smile.

You simply won't believe

what the bishop
said to me as he left.

What did he say?

He said, "It was a beautiful
confirmation service, Philip.

Just beautiful."

Well, it was.

No, no, you don't get it.

Get what?

He called me Philip.

That's the first time
he's actually called me

by my Christian name.

That's a good sign,
don't you think?

Mm.

Father!

Oh, dear. Breathe! Breathe!

PRESTWICK All right, hold it.

Smile...

Wonderful! Thank you.

- Very nice, children.
- Thank you, guys.

We're so proud of
you. You look gorgeous.

By the way, uh... what was
your confirmation name?

Bye. What?

Your confirmation
name, what was it?

Sivle.

Sivle?!

S-I-V-L-E. Sivle.

I don't remember any St. Sivle.

Sivle is Elvis
spelled backwards.

I got away with it.