"In a photograph I came across of Dodi`s desk in his Park Lane apartment there were just two pictures on display: one of him with Tony Curtis and Hollywood friends, the other with a woman I didn`t recognise. She turned out to be Denice Lewis, a model who had dated Dodi on and off for five years and who now lives in Los Angeles, where she makes paintings of the deceased, mixing their ashes into the pigment. We met at her trendy downtown gallery, all barbed wire and ersatz graffiti on the outside. Denice is stick thin, 6ft plus heels, wearing a trouser suit and holding a chihuahua. I asked her if she could remember where she and Dodi met. "I honestly don`t remember, but it had to be at some party or fabulous event." Was she impressed by him? I`d heard Dodi could click his fingers and have a helicopter there in 20 minutes. "It was fun. We went to great places, but I loved going to their country home and going horse riding most. We would go to the south of France and go out on the boat. It was a fairy-tale lifestyle." Denice was a little distracted while we talked, laughing nervously and clutching her chihuahua. Were you in love with Dodi? "No, God no." You were with him for quite a long time. "But it was not like it was a committed relationship. We... we just dated for a long time.""