Freak neighbors

First off, let me say that I live in a great place. It's secluded enough to be quiet, but very close to the school where I work. I can hear the coyotes at night and owls and other birds chirping away. I see rabbits and snakes and lizards, and skunks, and ground squirrels on a daily basis. A horse trail leads right to the dead end of the road I live on. There's little light pollution, so when I look up at the stars, I really see them. If I crane my neck, I can see the ocean out of my bedroom window on a clear day.

I have a two-bedroom cottage... actually a cottage that has been made into a duplex; there is a studio apartment attached at one end, and a yard, and a fireplace. Floor to ceiling windows in the living room and lots of natural light. I moved here so I could get a dog, and Charlie is the love of my life at the moment, so all is good. Right?

Except for Weird Walter. He's the occupant of the attached studio. Mrs. P., the owner of the property lives in the main house, Leslie lives in one of the two attached apartments of the main house, and Hugh lives in the other. Leslie has been here for 10 years, so you know it's a good place. Hugh is a cute Brit professor with straight teeth who's here for a year working on a book. Wish I'd gotten to know him better.

Almost two years ago I moved in. Walter moved in about a week before me. He's about 6 foot 6 inches tall, with a low, s-l-o-w voice that just creeps me out. I avoid him when I can. He walks very quietly, like he's purposely sneaking up on you. I'm always startled when he pops up out of nowhere. I think he likes that.

He asks questions that seem innocent, but then he argues with you.
"Rebekah, do you know if Mrs. P is home yet from her trip?" He'll be standing right next to my car as I get out.
"Oh... Walter, you scared me. Um... yes, I think she is. She put my mail by my door today."
"Well, I called the property management company, and they said she wasn't going to be home today."
(Well then, why the fuck did you ask me then?)
Or,
It's late, 10pm or so, and I'm putting my laundry in the dryer.
"Hi."
"Ah! Oh, it's you Walter; I didn't hear you come up.
"It's a good thing then that I didn't put my hand on your shoulder, heh?" (ew ew ew! Gross. Yes, it's a very good thing.)
So I continue with the dryer, he puts stuff in the washer...
"Can I ask you a question? How come you set the dryer on 'more dry' instead of timed dry?"
"Um. I don't know. Because it gets the clothes more dry than if I put it on 'less dry'? Because that's the way my mom did it?"
"Well, I was reading the dryer's manual (who the hell reads the dryer manual?) and it says that it actually senses the amount of moisture in the clothing when you put it on that setting. blah blah blah..."

I keep getting tricked. Why ask me lame questions when you already know the answer? I swear, this guy does NOT know how to speak to people. And don't tell me he has a crush on me. I have never seen him with a woman, and he has a male friend that comes over and very often spends the night. I could be wrong, but I think he's just daft. My landlady can't stand him. And that's where the tricky part comes in. Because she loves me. Treats me like a daughter. Confides in me about her dislike of him. And that puts me in an uncomfortable position. One which I will write about tomorrow.