If you’re searching for books like The Residence, the real ask is usually sharper than it sounds: a contained space, a dry edge of wit, and a room where every suspect looks slightly too composed.
The closest answer here is Cassie Hour. It keeps the same pressure-cooker pleasure, but shifts it into a villa file: the house, the recording, and the witnesses all seem to keep their own record. Nothing is simply told. It is heard, misheard, remembered late.
The mystery sits in Marbella, where the atmosphere is bright enough to hide something and quiet enough to make a missing recording feel deliberate. A late hour returns, again and again. A chorus carries more than melody. A detail left in the wrong room starts to behave like evidence. The result is not a puzzle that begs to be explained in advance; it is a story that stays elegant while it tightens.
That is what makes Cassie Hour a natural next read for someone coming from The Residence: the pleasure is not just in solving, but in watching a closed world reveal how carefully it has been arranged.
If you want the novel first, start here: Cassie Hour. The song lives beside it, but the villa keeps the main file.