Who Is Cletis Tout?

One word, three syllables.
The clue is:
a need to disappear.

Finch! I thought
you were in jail!

No, I'm in a lot of trouble.
I need your help.
I need... I need a kit,
and I need a body.

Where are you?
I'm in the city.
There's a safe house
on the east side.

A bar called fillmore's.
Can you get there?
Ask for Delores.
Tell her Savian sent you.
She'll know what to do.
I got a friend.
55-year-old caucasian male
approximately five-nine,
150 pounds.

I'll see what I can do.
Where the hell you been?
Well, I couldn't hide them
in my jacket forever, could I?

Quite a deal, this cage.
Look at this-
got a faux bottom.

You can hide things
in it and everything.

God, the magician in me
just loves this stuff.

You're not Cletis Tout.
I've got a strong feeling
that before the day is out

someone's going
to make use of that

rather expressive, though
somewhat old-fashioned, term:

foul play.
"Rebecca," United Artists, 1940.
If you're not Tout, who are you?
I'm Finch.
Cletis Tout was a bottom-feeder.
Called himself
a video journalist

but he was really just a thug
with a camera.
Worked alone.
His client list included
all those tabloid shows.

His mark was anybody who made
their living in the public eye.

There was a bachelor party
for some mobster's son-

kid named Rowdy Virago.
His dad, "Paulie the fist," ran
a little group called
the vissari crime family.

Rowdy was high-profile.
He liked that movie star status
but every time he put his face
in front of a flashbulb