The Inspector wouldn't be caught crying, not in front of his men. So when he felt the menacing of a flood of angry tears threatening to burst out, and saw he was surrounded at the station, he could think of little else to do but to grab the first liquid he could see and to throw it in his own face.
It didn't matter whose pineapple juice it had been. It burned the Inspector's eyes. The subordinate detectives and secretaries were too startled to speak, and frozen with curiosity at the sight of their superior's own indecisive, dripping face and red eyes as though he had been crying.