Coros RV & Boat Storage was located on Cline Avenue in Hammond, not far from Lake Michigan. Benny told Marsha he was going to keep his boat there so he didn’t have to haul it through traffic each time he wanted to fish. Of course, everyone knew, including Marsha, that a small vessel like that Jon Boat was way too dangerous to take out on the great lake. The unrelenting winds and choppy surf were just that, even during nice spring days.
Benny had discovered that Frank and Gerald were switched to the night shift, same as Murphy, so early Monday morning, April 27th, 1992, Benny hooked up his boat and headed out, but not to the boat storage--to Tyler Road. He arrived a few minutes before 6:00 a.m. and parked a good two blocks west of Tyler on U.S. 20. Frank won’t be looking for a boat, thought Benny as he sat quietly in his car, peeking in the rearview mirror for Frank’s amber truck. Benny watched as the digital clock/radio in his car changed to 6:18. No sign of Frank. He waited another ten minutes and decided to leave. Just as he started to pull away, he saw Frank’s truck in the mirror. Benny stopped himself from merging onto the road and waited for Frank to drop off Gerald, who was sitting next to Frank, this time, fully awake. About two minutes later he saw Frank cross over U.S. 20 to the north side of Tyler. Benny waited another minute before following Frank.
It looks like they live near each other, thought Benny as he started his car and put it in drive.
Traffic was getting heavier down U.S. 20 as Benny drove two blocks before making a wide left onto Tyler, keeping his eye on his fishing boat in back. He didn’t see any sign of Frank, thinking he had waited too long. He purposely crept a few blocks down Tyler, scanning both sides of the street, looking for any sign of that truck. The houses on the north side of Tyler were in slightly better shape than on Gerald’s side, but not by much, as they too were sporting a few boarded up houses. As Benny approached the stop sign before Route 12, he spotted Frank’s truck which was parked in the alley next to the house on the northeast corner. Probably Frank’s house. He quickly drove passed and circled around to U.S. 20 and back onto Tyler, this time parking a block south of the house. Benny put on his Cubs hat and thinner pair of sunglasses as he exited his car and walked towards the old two story wooden dwelling.
The numerous mature, tall oaks with expansive branches and wide leaves provided a broad, shaded cloak as Benny slowly walked down the old chipped sidewalk. It was only 6:24 a.m. which gave Benny at least another half hour to look around. As he neared the house, he heard dogs barking in the backyard, and then running to the front of the chain-link fence which ended even with the façade. There were two dogs, both white Pit Bulls, wearing thick, black spiked collars. They looked aggressive and vicious, just like Benny remembered Frank. If I’m going to do this thing, I’ve got to find a way to get passed those dogs, Benny thought to himself as he turned right, walking along Route 12 to look at the backyard.
What he saw in the backyard was an oversized doghouse. No swing sets. No kids stuff. Just a huge doghouse, complete with shingles and a gutter, and numerous piles of dog shit everywhere. There was no real grass to speak of, just tons of tall weeds. The place looked as though it hadn’t seen a lawn mower in years. The dogs, however, looked well fed, but the fact they looked vicious was a problem. Benny liked dogs, but he wasn’t too fond of Pit Bulls. He didn’t hate them. He just didn’t care for them.
Satisfied that he knew where Frank lived, on the north side of Tyler, and what he was up against, Benny decided to look around Gerald’s house again. He made his way back south towards Gerald’s side of Tyler. He drove down to the pond where it dead ended and made the wide U-turn, boat in tow, so he would face U.S. 20 in case of an emergency. He drove his car almost all the way up to the stop sign, then walked towards the pond. As soon as he reached Gerald’s house he heard dogs barking. What the fuck! Benny thought, as he stopped in his tracks. Again? More fucking dogs to deal with? And not just more dogs--more Pit Bulls, fenced in the backyard just like Frank’s. This time there were three of them. It also appeared that Gerald used the same backyard decorator as Frank. Shit everywhere and an even bigger doghouse, with a fenced-in run leading to Gerald’s back door. Why do they have so many damn dogs? thought Benny. Could only be one thing.